


Castiel and Crowley TNM Episode 9: Big Game

by WatchingOne



Series: Castiel and Crowley: The Next Missions [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7758631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchingOne/pseuds/WatchingOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do Castiel and Crowley finally have their opponents on the run? Or is it the other way around? The game that wins the universe nears the end in the penultimate chapter of Castiel and Crowley Season 1!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draft Day

# Draft Day

“ _Another_ Hot Topic?” Angela complained to Robert, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I thought that the Mall of America of all places would have something new and exciting to do....not this same old, tired thing.”

Robert raised an eyebrow at her quizzically. “Do you doubt the awesome power of Minnesota's most prolific monument?” He raised his drink over his head and made a small circle. “I mean, there are literally hundreds of irresistible and trendy shops here, and....roller-coaster.  _In the mall_ . Roller-coaster. Just sayin'.” He lowered his cup and took a noisy sip, watching her over his thick eyebrows. Angela smiled at him.  _He's kinda cute_ , she thought. Definite second base material. She was usually into the athlete types. Wrestlers especially. So flexible. She shook her head. Robert was the brainy type. More than a little nerdy. Definitely not her usual.

_At least he's tall_ , she thought, pursing her lips and fluttering her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Mon Ami, that is strictly kid's stuff,” she retorted. “'Nickelodeon Land', seriously?”

Robert raised his eyebrow again at her. “You know something? I think you're scared.”

“Scared?! Moi?”, she exhaled, her eyes wide. She winced internally. She had _promised_ herself to stop using French so much. Yes, she was proud that she had taken it this year as an elective, sure, but it sounded corny as hell when she used it like that. “I'm not scared of anything, my hirsute date for the weekend.” He looked at her quizzically.  _Crap,_ she winced again.  _I also promised to stop showing off my vocabulary all the damned time_ ....

They walked a few minutes more in silence. Robert was leading them towards the colorful and gaudy roller-coaster anyway, despite her protests. He stopped just outside of it and turned to her.

“Do....do you really think that I'm hairy?”

Angela did a double-take. He had  _understood_ that? That was  _very_ not usual....bonus points, nerd-boy. She recovered and ran a finger along his large, but, in her opinion, sexy eyebrows.

“Only in the right places, handsome,” she cooed. He blushed furiously. So cute.  _OK, third-base material_ , she reflected, stepping back. “So, you appear to be insistent on putting me on this monstrosity....” she bowed at the waist and extended her palm. “Shall we?”

Robert grinned widely and they stood in line for the tickets. They got in a short time later, Robert grinning like an idiot. Angela smiled as well. It was infectious. _Is he actually boyfriend material?_ , she mused as the car started moving, bringing them bumpily into the first loop before slowing and climbing higher.

There was a jolt when they reached the top and the roller-coaster stopped. There were a few gasps from the passengers and a groan of frustration from a couple of others.

Robert turned around in his seat, looking around. “Huh.”

“What is it?” Angela asked.

“I dunno, some kind of mechanical failure I guess,” he answered. He turned back to her and waggled his brows at her. “Looks like we're stuck here, sweetheart,” he said in a falsetto film-noir detective voice.

She huffed and smiled back. “And there's no way for you to rescue me from this unexpected, but strangely advantageous position that we find ourselves in?” she replied, blinking her eyes rapidly.

Robert snorted. “Sweetheart, getting you out of here is the last thing....hey what the hell is that?” he cut off, his eyes narrowing at something going on behind her. Angela twisted in her seat frowning. There was shouting coming from down below, more than a few people running.

“No idea....” she murmured, leaning away to get a better view.

More people began running, some started screaming in panic. Angela felt her blood go cold.

“Holy shit, is it a terrorist attack?” Robert gasped, also leaning over the rail.

Angela shook her head, “I don't hear any shots or anything...what is going on down there....?”

A squad of Mall Security was backing up around a corner in a line, they had their pistols out and were shouting as well.

“Stay back!”, Angela heard one of them shouting around the corner. “We  _will_ open fire! Stay back and get down on the ground!”, one of the guards was shouting, his voice full of panic.

There was a flash of light from behind one of the jewelry stands in the middle of the floor, and the stand itself  _flew_ into the line of guards, scattering them like bowling pins. Angela exhaled loudly.

“Holy  _shit_ .....that was an explosion!!”, Robert groaned, taking out his smartphone and pointing in in the direction of the guards. “It is terrorists!”

The guards that hadn't been knocked out rolled to their knees and started firing in the direction from where the flash had come from. Angela squinted and saw two figures walking there, apparently unaffected by the gunfire.

Numbly, she flipped out her own smartphone and started calling her mom. She dimly saw a tear from her face hit the screen.

“Yes? Angie, is that you?” came her mother's voice from the other end. Angela didn't answer immediately. She was staring at the two figures strolling nonchalantly in the middle of the mall floor, turning slowly, watching everyone.

They looked like two teenage boys. Angela squinted her eyes in confusion. She could see bullets hitting them, but....

“Angie? Angie What is that noise?” he mom shouted from the other end. “Are you watching a movie or something?”

“Holy shit.....holy  _shit_ ....” Robert was repeating, his shaky hands holding the camera. He was completely pale.

“M....mommy....” Angela managed to whisper. “Something's happening here at the mall....something bad....”

Silence from the other end. The gunfire stopped. Angela watched as the two boys walked up to the remaining guards and....

She turned away, trying not to throw up.

“Oh my God, Angie?! Angela, are you OK?”

“I want to go home, “ she found herself muttering into the phone numbly. Her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “Mommy? I want to come home....”

“Attention youth of Minnesota!” one of the boys shouted, his voice booming. “We're here for your best, and your brightest!”

“And what better place to find them then here?!! In their natural habitat!” the other one yelled out, more than a slight hint of amusement in his voice. Everything else in the mall had gone still, people frozen in place, afraid to move.

“Normally, we'd spend a little more time vetting everyone for this opportunity, but, you see, we are running  _very_ short on time, not to mention patience,” the first one said.

“So, we're running a blitz event. Today only, “ said the second. Angela thought she saw, even from up high in the roller-coaster car, his eyes were  _glowing red_ ....

“Unlimited power and a place at the ruling table,” the first boy continued. He seemed to also have a glow, but it was all around him, a hazy, blueish light.  _Am I going crazy? No_ ..... _shock_ .... _it must be shock_ ....Angela thought, tears streaming down her face.

“Any volunteers, please feel free to step forward.”

“Angie!? Angie!!” her mother screamed from the cell-phone. One of the boys down below frowned and looked up at them.

“And no sharing,” he growled. He snapped his fingers, and there was a flash of red light. With a curse, Robert dropped his phone. People all over the mall did so too at the same time. With a frown, Angela realized that she couldn't hear her mother anymore. She looked at her phone. A small curl of smoke rose from it, the screen black.

“You see, brother?” the first one said with a sigh. “I told you that it wouldn't work. Free-will, my ass.”

The second boy shrugged. “Better volunteers than slaves. You know my motto,” he replied, grinning.

“All right then,” the first boy growled. “We do this the hard way.”

He held his hands out to his sides and closed his eyes. Tendrils of white light and smoke roped their way rapidly out from them. He opened his eyes, which were now glowing brilliantly white.

“We only need four of you, to replace our numbers....it must be seven” he said, no longer shouting, but his voice seemed to echo in the open space. “So, if you will, please excuse the mess.”

He closed his eyes and whispered, “This one's for you, Dad....”

The tendrils began to reach people, swirling around their heads, shooting into their eyes. They shook violently, and collapsed to the ground, smoking. People screamed and tried to run, but the second boy waved his arms and walls of flame exploded out of the ground, penning them all in. Angela felt herself scrambling back in the roller-coaster car. The tendrils were reaching towards them as well....moving upward....reaching for her....

“ _OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod!_ ” Robert was shouting. The ropy smoke reached people in the car next to them. They collapsed a few seconds later, their eyes....their eyes were burned out of their heads....Angela felt herself drifting away, like she was watching herself in a movie. She felt like she needed to just wake up.

“Wake up, Angela,” she whispered.

The tendril of smoke slammed into her like a physical blow.

She watched her life spin around her, like a movie in Virtual Reality, but at incredible speeds....her friends in kindergarten, the time she got lost in the woods for two days, her first kiss, the time she won the writing award, all the way up to her sweet sixteenth birthday the week before. All swirling, spinning....

It stopped and Angela took in a deep breath. She slowly looked around her.

She was still in the roller coaster car with Robert. He blinked his eyes at her and turned his head around slowly.

Everyone around them in the other cars were dead, their eyes burned out. Angela looked over the side of the car at the mall floor below them. There were people lying everywhere, not moving. Two of them, however, were still standing, and the began to walk slowly towards the two boys, one of them from a hot dog stand in the Food Court, the other a kid who maybe was all of twelve years old. Angela felt a  _pull_ ....like she  _had_ to go to them as well....

She began to climb out of the railcar, completely disregarding the forty foot drop.

“Now, you just hold on there, little missy!”, the red-eyed boy called out. “Don't want to waste all the time and effort, you know?” He raised his arm and there was a clanking noise as the car detached itself from the rails. He gestured again and it began to slowly descend to the floor.

It landed gently on the stone. She opened the side door and Robert and her stepped out. She walked slowly towards the two teenagers, her feet moving with a will of their own.

The boy with the white eyes studied them and nodded. The red-eyed boy smiled.

“Because gems like you are so hard to find.” he said to her, cupping her jaw.

“They'll do,” the white-eyed boy said gruffly. “Smart. Full of potential.”

The second boy smiled. “Oh, we're going to be having so much  _fun_ together!” he said, clapping his hands together. “C'mon, let's blow this joint.”

Angela felt herself nodding. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw the bodies lying all around her, but all she felt for them was....pity.

No, that wasn't right.

They were....unworthy.

She only felt  _disgust_ for them.

She turned her head and smiled at the boy.

“I'm ready when you are,” she heard herself say.

Something deep inside of her screamed.

 


	2. Team Meetings

# Team Meetings

“ Where?” Dean asked, rubbing at his red eyes. He had been trying to get in a bit of rest. Everyone was. They were in sorry shape after the flight back from Scotland.  _Yeah, well, being chained to a wall in a wet dungeon for a week will do that to a guy_ , Dean griped to himself. He glanced up at the Big Board, which was covered with news streams from every major network. Chuck and Sam were seated at the large conference table, pouring over maps on Sam's laptop. The table behind it was cluttered with various folders and the small travel suitcase that Dean had pulled out of the Impala once they had gotten back to Atlanta. Dean looked around the room wearily. Jesse was leaning back in a chair at the head of the table, watching the news quietly, his face somber. Crowley was nowhere to be seen.

“Minnesota,” Castiel answered dryly. “The attack was in Minnesota. At the Mall of America.”

Dean felt his blood run cold. He glanced back at the news tickers and let out a deep breath.

“How many?” he asked, voice cracking.

Castiel met his eyes, not speaking. He shook his head slightly. Dean watched him for a few seconds, understanding.

“Godammit!” Dean exploded, turning away from the screens and slapping his hand hard against the wall. Chuck jumped a little. Sam nodded to himself.

“Well, they didn't waste any damned time, that's for sure,” Dean grumbled. “What the hell were they after? Just mass casualties?”

Castiel shook his head again. “We can't be sure. The news isn't reporting anything usable at the moment. The number of dead is greatly varied. There isn't much else.”

Dean squinted. “That's weird. Middle of a mall that size....no cell phone videos? Nothing on Twitter or YouTube?”

“Yeah, I thought that was weird too,” Sam replied. His shoved his glasses back up on his nose and let out a deep breath. “We're going to have to get on scene. Looks like there's a pretty serious clamp-down on information. Fed-level.”

“So, we're going with FBI?” Dean asked, walking over to the travel suitcase. He zipped it open and started sorting through several badges and shields that were in it.

Sam shook his head. “No. Probably Federal Marshalls this time.”

Dean looked up and whistled softly, shaking his head.

“Heavy ammo.”

“Yeah, well, we're going to need to seriously annihilate some jurisdiction issues if the CIA or Homeland Security is already involved.” He turned and gave an appraising glance at the Big Board. “And I think they are. The lack of video footage makes that pretty obvious.”

Dean followed his gaze. He nodded and turned back to the suitcase and opened a side pouch. He pulled out a leather case and unzipped it, shaking out two shields and ID badges.

“So, Def Leppard?” he asked.

Sam shook his head. “Motley Crue.”

Dean made a face. “Ugh. Heavy Metal?”

Sam twisted up the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well, I'm feeling particularly aggressive at the moment.”

“Well, at least make it  _classic_ metal....” he pulled out a small stamp device and began dialing letters on it. When he was done, he turned it over and checked the letters carefully. He then pressed it against an ink pad and leaned over one of the IDs. Very slowly, he stamped it in the name field. He pulled back the stamp and examined the badge. He nodded in satisfaction and pulled out a spray can from the case. He stepped back and blasted the card on both sides. Sam wrinkled up his nose.

“Geez, you gotta do that in here? That stuff stinks!”

“Sorry Sammy, but time is a factor,” Dean said, smiling. He picked up the card after a minute or so and shook it in the air, handing it over with a flourish. “Here you go, Agent Cooper.”

Sam frowned and read the badge. “Well, at least you didn't actually make my first name Alice....” he grumbled. “Who're you gonna be?”

“Agent Roth,” Dena said, dialing the letters on the stamp.

Sam rolled his eyes at him. “Please tell me you're not going to name yourself 'David-Lee'.”

Dean gave him a sour look. “What'dya think I'm stupid?” he grunted, looking down at the pad. He inked it up and pressed it onto the badge. “I used 'Lee-David', moron....” he muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Where's Crowley anyway?” Dean asked, repeating the process with the second Marshall's badge. “We're going to need him for transportation. Baby ain't gonna get there fast enough.”

“I could transport....” Castiel began.

Dean held up a hand, stopping him. He raised his eyes to Castiel from his work. “Cas. We've talked about this....”

Realization crossed Castiel's face and he leaned back. “Oh. Right. Poop. You like to be able to poop.”

Sam let out a bark of laughter and Dean watched Castiel for a short time in wonder before shaking his head. “You're one of a kind, man. One of a damned kind.”

Sam let out a little hiccup and took in a deep breath. “Crowley said he had some business to take care of with his staff. He'll be back in a little bit.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Not sure I like leaving him..... _unobserved_ , you know what I mean?”

Sam sighed again. “Yeah. I know. Last time we did that....”

“....he practically fed us to the Angel and Demon,” Dean finished. He shook his head. “I still can't believe we haven't even figured out their damned names yet....” He glanced at Chuck. “Yo, writer boy, you and the Angel had some words. You get anything out of that?”

Chuck glanced up and gave Dean a weak smile. “Ummm.....”

“Why don't you just tell them?” Jesse spoke up, staring hard at Chuck.

Chuck looked at him in confusion. “Um...sorry?”

Jesse rolled his eyes and stood up. “That you're God.”

Chuck's expression didn't change. He continued to smile at Jesse in confusion. “What?” he asked in squeaky voice.

“Please,” Jesse replied. “I'm the Anti-Christ. You might be able to mask it from everyone else, but me? Try again.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “God? Chuck? This guy? Seriously?!” Sam was also smiling, but looked unsure. Castiel was watching Chuck very carefully.

“Um....Jesse?” Chuck asked.

Jesse frowned. “What? What's the big deal? Prophet, God, what's the difference?”

Chuck's smile began to sink. “Jesse....” he answered, with a little more warning in his voice.

“Is he....is he actually  _serious_ ?” Dean asked pointing a finger between Chuck and Jesse. 

“I am  _not_ having this conversation again....” Chuck sighed, now glaring at Jesse.

“What the hell?! He's  _right_ about....?” Sam began, standing up.

He froze in place halfway up. Dean was also not moving, his finger in mid-wag. Castiel's mouth was hanging open,

Jesse looked around at them and sighed. “Nice. You stopped time?”

“Jesse....stop.”

Jesse shrugged. “Like I could stop you” He frowned and looked at Chuck quizzically. “Could I?”

Chuck shrugged back. “Actually, I wouldn't like to find that out. You at full power....” he shook his head. “Could be close,” he smiled grimly.

Jesse smiled tightly in return.

“How long have you known? Chuck asked.

Jesse smiled. “First second I saw you in that other dimension.”

“And you didn't say anything?” Chuck frowned. “Why?”

“I didn't know what you wanted with me. I figured....'Hey. God came to visit me'. Gotta be some deeper meaning there.”

Chuck smiled, looking at the table. “Actually, no. I got caught. Same as you.”

Jesse grimaced. “How? You're God, right?”

Chuck shook his head. “Yes....also no. Right now I'm Chuck the Prophet - alcoholic and not very successful writer.”

“Just like that? You can just....what? Transform? Decide to be someone or something else?

“Rules are rules,” Chuck answered, eyes smiling.

Jesse frowned, considering.

“So....what's with the big act? Why hide this from them?”

Chuck sighed and ran a hand across his forehead. “There was a....confrontation. With the Darkness. I actually revealed myself to them.”

“And then, what? You made them forget again?”

Chuck nodded.

“Why?”

Chuck sighed. “Because of what's happening right now. No one should know who or rather, what I am. Too much is at stake.”

Jesse braced himself on the table, head down, not looking at him. “Chuck, if you could stop this....”

Chuck shook his head. “I can't. Don't you think that I would if I actually could?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead slowly. “ _Everyone_ thinks that. That I don't care.” He stared at Jesse, a hint of anger, mixed with a hint of sadness showing around his eyes. “Jesse, the universe exists in a very careful balance. It has to maintain this balance or the whole thing blows up. And I mean that  _literally_ .” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “You wouldn't  _believe_ the mess that that makes....anyway, considering the forces at play here now, if I got involved directly....Jesse, I wish I could help, you have no idea how much I wish that.” He hung his head, then raised it, meeting Jesse's eye directly and holding them firm. “Do you have any idea what it's like to know that you are literally responsible for every nightmarish thing, horror, torture and pain that has ever existed? And have no ability to do anything about it, because you know that their existence and balance they create allows life and love and beauty to exist as well?”

Jesse stared back and then shook his head.

Chuck sighed. “I tried to just give it all up last time. I got dragged back into caring again. I'm not about to give up again so soon. Just....trust me when I say this, it has to be allowed to play out.”

“Even if the bad-guys win?” Jesse asked softly. “Is that what you're telling me?”

Chuck didn't answer him for awhile, then he just nodded. “I'm sorry, but yes.”

Jesse was silent for a while then he sat down heavily. “That sucks, man.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

They sat in silence for several minutes before Jesse sighed loudly and looked around the room. Chuck was still watching him with guarded interest.

“I guess we need to do our best to frikkin' win then. So....what do we do about this?” Jesse asked, waving his hand around the room.

“Easy, I snap my fingers, or some other random gesture, and we go back to the exact moment right before you started telling them who I am,” Chuck answered.

Jesse nodded. “Allright, do it then.”

Chuck waved his hand.

“Well?” Dean asked, impatient.

Chuck looked up at him. “No, Dean. I think....I think he knew that I was a Prophet. It....it kinda freaked him out. But I didn't get anything else.” He turned his eyes back to Jesse, who sighed and looked away.

Dean considered that for a moment before grunting in disappointment. “Huh. Well, that sucks.” Jesse stared pointedly at Chuck, who looked a bit uncomfortable.

At that moment Crowley walked in, looking at the Big Board, and then around the room.

“So, what did I miss?”

“Whole lotta nothing,” Jesse grumbled. Crowley crooked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, we're just about ready to go to Minnesota, there's nothing we can determine from here,” Sam answered, standing up and closing the laptop. He attached the now dry Marshall's ID to a suit jacket hanging over his chair and put it on, straightening his tie. Dean was doing the same, also checking his sidearm in his holster. “If....I mean...if it's OK and all....we never really asked, right?” Sam hesitated, looking at Chuck.

Chuck waved a tired hand in the air. “Doesn't matter anymore,” he sighed. “The main point of the vision about you two staying out of this was to keep Archangels from getting killed.” He looked up at Sam and Dean and gave them a grim smile. “Oops.”

Dean frowned and Sam, exasperated, hung his head. “Yeah, well....we'll leave the big decisions to Castiel and Crowley anyway, just to be safe. We're on a fact-finding mission.” He raised his eyebrows and looked over at his brother. “Right?”

“Sure thing,” Dean grunted in reply. “So, we gonna stand around here all day, or what?”

Crowley looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well, jet's all fueled. Head to the roof and the helicopter will take you to Hartsfield. We'll be here monitoring via closed circuit.”

Sam nodded and pressed a pin to his lapel. “Wanna test it?”

Crowley smiled. “Moose, at four-thousand dollars a pop, if those button cameras don't work, someone's going to be in _big_ trouble over at the KGB.” He picked up a remote control off of the table and clicked a button with his thumb. A video feed coming from Dean and Sam's point of view showed up in two separate windows on the screen. “But, here you go - just for your peace of mind.”

Sam nodded and with another nod to Dean, headed out of the door towards the roof.

 

***

 

The black-clothed agent wearing a badge marked with the large blue capital letters 'FBI' held up his hand as Sam and Dean approached the mall's cordoned off barrier. They whipped out their IDs and held them up for inspection.

The agent leaned in close and looked at them, nodding.

“Well, someone's awfully nervous....” he said, nodding. He touched his earpiece. “Yeah, command....two, count 'em,  _two_ Wyatt Earps here on the perimeter. Marshalls....” He paused, squinting at the badges again. “Cooper and Roth. Yep. Sending 'em in.”

Sam and Dean took the badges back and ducked under the crime scene tape.

“Straight through the East entrance, Marshalls. There's a CIC set up in the Food Court.”

Sam nodded. “Thanks,” he grunted.

They strode into the mall through a sea of emergency vehicles, mobile command posts and large canvas sheets set up to prevent the media or anyone from the crowd gathered on the perimeter from filming. Sam scanned the sky.

“No-Fly Zone, too. No news-copters,” he grunted, looking over at Dean.

Dean nodded, not breaking stride. “Counted three CIA spook-mobiles, an FBI forensics unit and about twenty honchos from Homeland Security. Better avoid those.”

Sam grunted. “Yeah, at least one of those probably knows the  _actual_ names of the 94 active US Marshalls. Probably BBQ's on the weekend at some of their houses.” He scanned the parking lot again before they pushed through the entrance. “This is some pretty serious action, Dean.”

Dean gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment as they walked in. Another FBI agent pointed them on to the Command and Control center, a makeshift series of tables with laptops and communication equipment. The tables were also covered with several coffee cups and plates of half-eaten pizza and donuts. Several officers from various agencies were engaged there in various conversations and activities. A couple of them glanced up as Sam and Dean approached. Sam took a deep breath.

“Head-honcho here?” he grunted.

One of the FBI agents, a balding man with horn-rimmed glasses, sipped at his coffee and watched them over the cup's rim.

“Geez, over-kill much, Marshalls?”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

The agent shook his head. “No one just  _talks_ to each other anymore,” he grumbled. He put down the cup and shoved his hands in his pocket. “The HAIC is another one of you guys,” he said, pulling out a hand and jerking his thumb in the direction of several floodlights and forensic agents swarming over the open floor under the roller coaster. “Skinny guy. Cowboy hat. Can't miss him.”

Dean looked quizzically at Sam. Sam looked worried.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling at the agent and walking in that direction. When they were a few paces away, he leaned towards Dean, whispering.

“You thinking what I'm thinking?”

Dean nodded, smiling tightly. “Knowing our luck? Absolutely.”

They reached the agents and spotted the other 'Marshall' instantly. He was scarecrow-skinny and wearing an absurdly wide cowboy hat. He was busy pointing around at the forensic team excitedly and scribbling down notes occasionally on a small notepad. Dean sidled up behind him without him seemingly noticing and leaned towards his ear.

“Hi Garth,” he whispered. The skinny man didn't react.

“'Bout time,” Garth answered, smiling. Dean looked a bit surprised. Garth kept smiling. “What? You were trying to sneak up? On  _me_ ? I smelt you two idiots ten minutes ago.” He looked at Dean's badge and rolled his eyes. “Oh, you too? Why can't I be the only Federal Marshall for a change?”

“Actually, last time it was a Texas Ranger, Marshall....'Norris'?” Dean grunted as he looked at Garth's ID, rolling his eyes. “Seriously?” He looked up at Sam as he walked up. “Looks like we're sharing today, Marshall Cooper. Play nice.”

Sam nodded, reaching out and chucking Garth on the shoulder. “Nice to see you, big guy. How're things?”

“Oh, you know, apocalypse this, apocalypse that,” Garth quipped.

“Yeah, working on that,” Dean replied, looking around.

“No, I meant my kids,” Garth replied.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? You....you never said anything.”

Garth smiled back toothily. “Yeah, well, they kind of all sprung up at once, you know.”

”Oh my God, seriously, a  _litter_ ?” Sam asked, smiling.

“Yeah, Bess delivered just about two weeks ago.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Haven't slept much since.”

“How many?”

“Eight,” Garth moaned. “And they are all...and I mean,  _all_ shriekers. They coordinate it, I swear.”

“So this is kinda of a vacation,” Dean said, looking around.

Garth's look turned serious. “Hardly, fellas. This is some pretty serious mojo.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think we might know who's behind it, too.”

“Well, that's something, at least,” Garth nodded.

“What're we looking at?” Dean asked.

“Over a hundred dead, we're still checking....the bodies....they were everywhere.”

Sam nodded. “And the video, it's all on lockdown?”

“See, that's another thing, first thing we did was gather up all the smartphones and closed-circuit around here.”

“And?”

“And....zip. Everything's fried. It's like a damned EMP went off, but all the other electronics in the area are working.”

Sam frowned. “Where are the phones? Maybe I can rebuild the memory from one of the chips.”

“FBI's got 'em all over there for now,” Garth answered, gesturing towards a table near the roller coasters. “Maybe we can sneak a couple out.”

“Good idea,” Dean answered. The three of them worked their way over to the table and started looking at the phones, examining the tags on them and placing them back carefully.

“Hey, check this out,” Sam whispered. “This one was found in one of the roller coaster cars, one that was separated from the ride and on the mall floor.”

“Yeah, so? There were lots of phones in the cars,” Garth shrugged.

“Yeah, but this tag says that there was no body with this one,” Sam answered. “Maybe a survivor.” He pocketed the phone stealthily and they all turned away from the table.

And froze.

“Where do you think you're going with that?” the red-haired FBI agent was asking them, her arms crossed over her chest and staring at them with one eyebrow raised. She tapped her rainbow-colored sneaker impatiently on the floor. “That's evidence, you know.”

“Charlie?” Dean answered, smiling.

“You bet your sweet bibble, sweetie,” she answered, striding up and giving him a big hug. “Can't stay apart for long, looks like.”

Sam smiled and got a hug of his own. Garth went in for one also, but Charlie gave him a polite smile and a warning glare and he settled for a handshake.

“So, gangs all here,” Sam sighed. “Anyone else around we don't know about yet?”

“Ummmm,” Charlie answered, smiling. She turned and pointed towards a group from the Sheriff's Department over by the donut stand.

“Is that Jody? And Donna?”, Dean said eyebrows raising. Donna and Jody noticed them and waved back. They nodded at each other and started to walk over.

Dean looked at Sam. “Coincidence?”

Sam raised his eyebrows back. “With our luck?” he replied simply.

Dean nodded grimly. Charlie watched them, her head turning from one to the other. Her smile began to fade. “What? What's up guys? More help is a  _good_ thing, right?”

Sam shifted his shoulder holster, making sure the gun was clear. “No. I think we're being....herded.”

“Huh?”

Garth growled.

“Creating an incident that we absolutely can't ignore....getting everyone in one place....”, Sam said, looking around the mall.

Dean started scanning as well. “Trap?”

Sam nodded. “Trap.”

He sucked in his breath in a hiss and froze.

“They're still here,” he whispered.

Dean paled and followed Sam's gaze. There, at the corner of the Food Court, stood six figures, four teenagers in a row standing in front of two teenage boys, whose eyes were glowing red and blue, respectively.

“Crowley, we're gonna need backup,” Sam whispered into his coat pin.

The six figures took a step forward as one. The two in back raised their hands up, and swirling energy started flowing from their hands.

“ _Fast, Crowley_ , really, really fast,” Sam said breathlessly, drawing his pistol.

 


	3. Escape From Minneapolis

# Escape From Minneapolis

“It's not doing anything!” Jody screamed, glancing at Sam. Sam grunted and reached into an ammunition pouch he had clipped to his belt. He tossed her a magazine.

“Try this!” he shouted back over the din of explosions and gunfire. Red fire and white flashes of energy streaked by him. The entire Food Court was covered in smoke from various fires, all happening in the space of just a few seconds.

“What is it?” Jody asked, slamming the clip into her Beretta.

“Men of Letters special,” Sam yelled back, his mouth twisted in a half-smile. “Dipped in Holy Water, Devil's Trap engraved on the tips....plus, my own special touch....especially made for these jerks....”

Jody fired, trying to hit the two forms in the back, vague, but glowing distinctly red and white. The four kids in front were charging their position, and she was doing her best to avoid hitting them. The myriad of other special agents on the scene didn't get that message. They were firing haphazardly at the attackers, several shouts of “Terrorists!” and such springing up. Luckily, or unluckily, considering their situation, the teens had been imbued with various abilities, which were becoming painfully obvious reasonably quickly. That, plus the two leaders of this group were apparently bulletproof, and shielding their minions as well.

Jody fired steadily, and her shot took the white-glowing teen in the shoulder. He grunted and spun, the smoke clearing enough for Jody to catch a glimpse of surprise and pain on his face.

“Bitch!” he snarled, raising his arm towards her. But Jody calmly squeezed off another round before he could do anything, her training keeping her heartrate and breathing steady. The round took the boy in the leg, spinning him to the ground.

“Wow...what exactly is that 'special touch' of yours?”

“Holy Oil,” Sam replied grimly. “Mixed with the gunpowder. I would assume that isn't too pleasant for Angels when a super-heated bullet hits them....”

He was cut off as the teen began to scream in pain. His partner looked at him in concern.

At the same time, one of the teenage minions, a pretty girl with blond hair done up in dreadlocks and wearing pink lipstick, raised her arms and caught a shape springing at her in mid-air. She shoved it away and a half-wolf/half-human figure gave a yelp of pain as it struck a police barricade.

“Great. Telekinesis,” Dean grunted, firing towards the teens. “What? These two jerks say the word and boom, insta- X-Men?”

“Not sure,” Sam answered, squinting through the smoke. “There is some kind of power transfer, that's a certainty....” He ducked as a jet of white-hot flame flew in the air next to his head, singing his hair. “Son-of-a-bitch....” he murmured. He saw to his distress that the Angel was recovering from his wounds already, his brother healing him. He grunted and ran towards the werewolf, who was still crumpled on the ground.

“You OK, Garth?” he asked, skidding to a halt and raising his gun, scanning in front of him. Dean had got into a grappling match with a kid dressed as a hit-dog vendor. He saw them both spin out of the way of a hail of bullets coming from the CIA command area. Sam shook his head, grabbing his lapel. “Crowley,  _now_ would be a damned good time....!” he shouted into the button.

Garth let out a whine of pain and rolled onto his side. Sam winced, seeing bone protruding out of the werewolf's leg.

There was suddenly a high-pitched whine all around them in the air, forcing Sam to grab his ears. Luckily, the police and agents in the area had to do the same, and the firefight stopped for a few seconds.

Castiel strode out of the smoke, face grim, and touched Garth's leg. The wound knit itself together instantly and Garth let out a sigh of relief, then a growl as he sprang back up, returning to the melee.

“Thanks Cas,” Sam grunted, looking around. “Crowley?”

“He's here too,” Castiel replied. He nodded in the direction of the Angel and Demon. “Let's see if we can turn this around on them.”

“Absolutely,” Sam answered, firing three shots in quick succession at the pair.

Dean came skidding on his back across the floor towards them. Castiel sprang over and caught him, stopping him from hitting the metal barricade.

“Super strength,” he groaned, rolling on his side. “The hot-dog boy has super-strength.” He looked up at the two of them, his left eye already turning a nasty shade of purple. “Cas, do you mind?”

Castiel nodded to him, touching him on the forehead as he got up. Dean's eye healed instantly.

Sam and Dean looked over at Donna, who was screaming at the agents to quit firing at the kids. Sam winced at the several choice words she had for them.

“How you wanna do this?” Dean asked, checking his weapon.

“We have to get to the ringleaders,” Sam answered. “Sneak around the wreckage of the roller coaster there and get behind the troops. Those rounds I cooked up seem to be able to do some damage.”

Dean nodded and they took off at a run, crouched low. Sam glimpsed into the fight, seeing Garth ripping at a series of thorny vines that seemed to be growing out of the floor. The telekinetic girl was busy hurling broken vendor stands at Jody, who was moving deftly out of the way, and managing to not return fire. The teenager with the amped up strength and the younger kid who could shoot out flames like a machine gun were advancing on Donna and the group of government agents, who had begun arming themselves with riot batons and tear gas grenades, putting their sidearms away. Sam grunted to himself, assessing the situation.

“We gotta do this really fast, they won't last long out there,” he said as they moved to within ten meters or so of the Angel and Demon, managing to stay out of sight. He frowned. “Where the hell is Crowley anyway....”

A blast of Hellfire hit the Angel and Demon pair square in the back. Sam blinked in suprise, holding up a hand in front of his face. The Hellfire burned away quickly, leaving two smoking forms. They turned towards Crowley and...there was someone standing next to him, hands smoking.

“Jesse?” Sam whispered. “Holy crap, Crowley, what are you thinking, bringing him here?”

Dena shrugged. “Seems to be doing OK to me.”

Sam shook his head, looking at his brother. “Don't you get it? The power these kids, these Heralds are getting....they're examples of Cambrion or Nephalim abilities, just not all of them at once, Jesse is the only one with all of that power.....”

“Yeah, so? He's on  _our_ side, Sammy.”

Sam groaned. “Dean, if they capture him....”

“Well, the wayward son has returned to us,” the Demon called out. “Nice of you to come, Jesse. And....Crowley? On the front lines? Not your style....”

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “No. I suppose it really isn't. Sic 'em boys,” he growled.

There was a cacophony as a whirlwind of motion sprang from out of nowhere all around Crowley, the distinctive howl of Hellhounds filling the air. The marble floor of the Mall was torn up as if it were made of paper. The Angel and the Demon flung up their hands, a shield of energy coming up at the last possible second. The Hellhounds slammed into it, growling and snarling.

“Heralds! To us!” the Angel screamed, grunting in effort to maintain the shield. Jesse raised his arms and let another blast of Hellfire loose into the shield. It wavered, and the form of one of the snarling Hellhounds was briefly outlined in the energy, as it had worked itself halfway through the shield, it's massive jaws snapping in the air.

Sam and Dean rushed over to Jesse and Crowley. Crowley looked at them and smiled. “Cavalry has arrived, boys.”

“Crowley, you  _idiot_ ,” Sam snarled. “This is exactly....”

He was cut off as a few hundred flashes of fire ripped through the air. All four of them hit the floor instantly, ducking out of the way. There were screams of pain from the Hellhounds as the fire tore into them. Several of them were also being flung aside by unseen force, and even more held tight by those vines. The hot-dog vendor waded in, grabbing and slamming the remaining invisible Hounds to the ground.

With a curse, Sam raised his gun, Dean doing the same.

They flew out their hands, spinning across the floor.

The Angel and the Demon let the shield drop, and walked over to them slowly.

Jesse stood up, gathering energy around him. The very air began to warp.

“Ooooh, impressive,” the Demon purred. “You're getting stronger, kid.” He cocked his head. “You sure you want to keep hanging out with these losers?”

Jesse snarled and released a blast of energy.

The Demon raised his hand, eyes glowing red. The energy fell into his palm, disappearing.

He shook his head. “Shame.” He looked up and snapped his fingers.

Jesse and the Demon both vanished.

“Noooooo!” Sam shouted, springing forward. The Angel regarded him lazily, then reached out an arm as Sam charged, lightning fast, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly two feet into the air.

Sam thrashed wildly, turning to see that Crowley and Dean, Garth and Jody were all being restrained by vines. He struggled vainly against the Angel's grip, turning his eyes back to him. The Angel leaned his face closer, lowering his arm simultaneously.

“It's a simple trade, Winchester,” the Angel hissed. “We want our Heralds back. That's it. You give us Sarah and Jones, and we return Jesse to you.”

“Bull....” Sam grunted. “I know what you want with Jesse, you won't give him back....”

The Angel smiled. “If you know so much, Sam Winchester, then you know that we will. Maybe not in the condition that you want him in, but nonetheless....” he shrugged, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “It's up to you. You have 24 hours. Bring us our Heralds. We'll inform you of the place.” With that, he dropped Sam to the floor. Sam's legs went out from under him as he turned to the side, gasping for air. By the time he could open his watery eyes, they were all gone.

Sam stood up shakily, helping everyone else to their feet as well. He checked in his jacket and pulled out the smartphone that he had recovered.

“C'mon,” he grunted. “Can't do any more damage here.” He eyed the teams of SWAT and CIA and FBI that were now filling the mall warily. “Let's see if we can find something useful on this thing.”

 

***

 

A few hours later, Sam was cuing up the video that he had recovered onto the Big Board in Crowley's conference room. They watched in silent horror as the scene from the Mall replayed itself over Angela's phone.

“See that?” Sam said, pausing it as the tendrils of smoke began twirling through the air and running through people, burning them out. “What is that?”

Castiel moved closer, shaking his head. “It's almost like....look at their eyes. Angels have the same effect on beings when they see our true forms....”

“Is that what this was doing? Showing them Angelic forms?” Crowley asked, moving closer. “Is that...?” he asked, pointing at a section of the screen. “Move it forward a few frames, Moose. Slowly.”

Sam sighed in annoyance and advanced the scene frame by frame.

“Stop.” Crowley said. He squinted at the screen, at one of the tendrils that was entering Angela's roller-coaster car. “That looks like....” he whispered, pointing at a dark section of the tendril.

“Demon smoke,” Dean replied. “They  _are_ hybrids.”

Castiel was shaking his head.

“No, that's impossible, Dean. Whatever those two _actually_ are...it is impossible to merge Demonic and Angelic energy.”

“Why?”

Castiel sighed. “Think of it like positive and negative energy. When the meet in equal parts, they tend to just annihilate each other, not merge together”

“Annihilate, as in blow up?”

Castiel shook his head. More like annihilate as in ceasing to exist all-together. Both energies. It's the basic foundation of the universe.”

Chuck groaned from behind them. He was sitting at the conference table with his head down, a bottle of mostly empty whiskey near him.

“Got anything to add?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you going to throw up? Again?”

Chuck looked up, bleary-eyed. “For your information, this is literally the only way I can recover from a vision....so...back off....” he slurred, waving his hand in the air. “Anyway, you're wrong Castiel.” He propped his head up with his hand and poured himself another shot.

Castiel frowned. “Wrong how?”

“That it can't be done. Because Lucifer pulled it off ages ago. When he created Demons.”

Castiel frowned. “He reached into the power of the Darkness, using the energy there to create his own form of life....”

Chuck pointed at him, jabbing his finger in the air. “Exactly. Demonic energy is from the Darkness. The exact opposite of Angelic energy.”

“But, you just confirmed my point....”

“No, no, don't you see?” Chuck grimaced, downing his whiskey and slamming the shot-glass back onto the table. “He stabilized it. Otherwise Demons would never be able to exist here. He figured out how to trap that energy into a stable form.”

“Demons.”

Chuck pointed again, nodding drunkenly. “Demons.”

“Wait a minute,” Dean broke in. “That still doesn't explain how these two are mixing Angelic and Demonic energy in the same form.”

Chuck leaned back. “Dude, you aren't seeing the whole picture. Lucifer  _reached into the Darkness and pulled out that energy_ ....”

Dean frowned. “Yeah....so?”

Sam groaned. Dean looked at him quizzically. “What?”

Castiel was watching Chuck, and his eyes widened. “Oh no....” he whispered. Dean looked at Castiel. “What?” he repeated, more emphatically.

“Dean, Lucifer is an _Angel_ , “ Sam answered slowly. “The most powerful Angel in existence, actually.”

Dean watched him, waiting.

“He _reached into the Darkness_....if he's an Angel, how did he do that without destroying himself”

Dean opened his mouth and shut it immediately. He considered it for a minute, turning pale.

“He figured out a way to protect himself,” Crowley whispered. “He figured out a way for an Angel to come safely into contact with pure Demonic energy.”

Chuck nodded vigorously, smiling, then abruptly let his head fall back to the table.

Dean let out a low whistle. “So, these two ass-clowns, what? Figured out how Lucie did it, then did it to their frikkin-selves?”

Sam shrugged.

“Oh, that's just _great_ ,” Dean muttered, walking over and grabbing the whiskey bottle out of Chuck's hands. Chuck gave a moan of protest, but Dean ignored him, tipping up the bottle and emptying it. He wiped his hand across his mouth. “How'd they figure out that little trick, I wonder?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sam said, looking at Crowley. Crowley watched him for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. He walked over to the intercom and pressed a button.

“Justin. We're going to be needing to go into the Cage,” he said into it, looking around the room at everyone, sweat beading up on his brow.

 


	4. Plan B, or C....D?

# Plan B, or C....D?

Crowley was annoyed. And rapidly approaching furious.

“What do you mean 'You can't find her?'”, he growled into his phone, his fingers gripping it tighter. The vein in his forehead started to pulse.

Sam, Dean, Castiel and he stood outside of a large steel door embedded in the side of a massive, dark, and active volcano spewing ash and black, sulphurous smoke into a red-toned, featureless sky that seemed to sickeningly speed away in several directions at once.... _Reminiscent of rivers of blood_ , Sam thought grimly, glancing up at it. There were multiple Demon guards surrounding the entrance, who had made way for Crowley when the group of them had arrived, and were now very busily looking anywhere but in his direction. Dean was rapping on the steel door in admiration, wondering aloud what it could withstand. Castiel was looking at all of the Demons clustered in the immediate vicinity warily, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his Angel's Blade inside of his trenchcoat. Sam....Sam looked incredibly bored.

They had traveled for over four hours just to get here. Crowley apparently hadn't been exaggerating when he had told them that the new location of the Cage was remote. It wasn't accessible by teleportation or magic. In fact, it wasn't accessible by any means of what could be termed 'rapid transportation' - in either direction, going to it, or leaving – “It's an additional security feature”, Crowley had explained. Sam raised his eyebrows and sighed. He really couldn't blame Crowley for being diligent and careful in this regard. It _had_ cost them a lot of time, though. And now there was _this_....

“Justin....” Crowley said lowly into his phone. “If you can't give me a better answer than that in the next two minutes, I am _going to fillet you_. And not in the good way.”

Dean turned to Crowley and raised his eyebrows. “There's a _good way_?”

Crowley smiled at him tightly, covering the speaker with his hand. “Jokes aside, Dean, if we don't have her, we don't get in.”

Dean shrugged. “We've got the Book, though, right? Why can't someone else do the spell?”

“She has the bloody Book as well....” Crowley grunted. “It was a....condition of our _agreement_.” His face curled in distaste at that last word. He shook his head. “We're dead in the water unless we can produce the Witch.”

Sam cleared his throat. The others all looked over at him. He looked around at them. “Anyone else thinking that maybe this is a _good_ thing?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sammy, we talked about this....”

Sam sighed. “You can't possibly still be thinking that trying to get information out of _Lucifer_ is a good plan, Dean. You know I'm right.”

Dean fixed his gaze. “What I know is that you have a serious fear-factor going on here when it comes to Lucifer. Yeah, _that_....I know.”

Sam stood up from where he had been sitting on the ground. “And you think that's not for about a million and a half good reasons?” he asked threateningly.

“Now kids,” Crowley stepped in. “You both have a point. But....we need to talk to him if we're to figure out how this Angel/Demon hybrid thing is done. It might not be the most ideal....wait just a second,” he paused, lifting his hand off of the phone and holding it back up to his ear. “Well, how many _times_ did you try the number?!” he shouted into it. He listened to the frantic answer on the other end and rolled his eyes. He covered the microphone again. “We set up a special emergency number for _exactly_ this contingency. If she's not answering _that_....well....” He put the phone back to his ear, listening. He sighed, then let it fall away from him, sighing, and looking at the door sadly.

“Dammit!” he yelled, throwing the phone into the steel door. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Castiel looked at him with raised eyebrows. Crowley let his shoulders sink and then held his hand out to his side wordlessly. A Demon immediately slapped another smartphone into it. Crowley glanced at it briefly, and with a sigh, tucked it into his pocket.

“It seems, my friends, that we have made this arduous journey all for naught,” he said calmly. “So, unless anyone has any other bright ideas, we're heading back. It appears that we have to find the _oft_ missing Book of the Damned. Oh....and my mother as well.”

“Actually, we don't need her to get into the Cage. Or the Book.” Castiel said evenly, meeting his eyes. Crowley watched him and his eyes widened.

“No no no, Cas, “ Dean broke in. “Bad things happen when you go into that Cage.”

Castiel turned towards him. “Like freeing your brother from it?”

Dean smiled tightly. “Yeah, well, way I remember it, that didn't turn out so hot. Ripped his frikkin' soul right out, if I'm remembering that right.”

Castiel took a step towards him. “Well, luckily, I won't have to be rescuing one of _you two_ this time. I will just need to go in and talk to him. Alone.”

“ _Him_?” Dean frowned. He shook his head. “Cas, I don't know if I'm all that crazy about that idea....”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yeah, how about _don't_ ,” Dean answered sharply. “Look, believe it or not, I think I'm actually starting to see Sam's point here.” He paused, considering. “Yeah, it's kind of freaking me out too, now that I'm sayin' it,” he added. “But messing with Lucifer without that Book for a control measure is all _kinds_ of dumb, Cas. We need answers, sure, but at what price?” He shook his head, eyes fixed on the Angel. “No way, man. Isn't worth it. We fight these douchebags without it.”

They watched each other tensely for a moment or two. Sam realized that a few Demons had also moved in closer to listen to the conversation. He shivered. A little _too close_ for his comfort. They made his skin crawl.

Finally, Castiel relented with a nod. “Ok, fine. _For now_.” He looked at Crowley. “We find Rowena then. And hopefully, that Book. Then we return here and pick it up where we left off. I want, no I _need_ , to know exactly how Lucifer managed to safeguard himself against Angel Grace and Demonic Dark Energy coming into contact with each other. I have a feeling the answer to that question is absolutely worth _any_ price.”

Crowley nodded, looking around him at the Demons. He frowned at the ones that had moved towards them. “Can I help you?” he growled. They glanced at each other and immediately backed away. “Even more importantly, once we find out how, we can find who would have had access to that information.”

“Narrowing the field,” Castiel answered.

Crowley grunted. “Exactly. Let's get out of here, then.” He sighed and glanced at his watch. He raised an eyebrow. “We are _seriously_ running out of time.”

 

***

 

They made the long trek back to the entrance and then teleported, despite Dean's multiple protests, back to Crowley's office in Atlanta. They re-appeared in a lounge off of the reception area, filled with plush leather chairs. Chuck was snoring soundly in one of the larger ones, and Jesse was pacing back and forth like a caged lion in front of the television, remote in one hand. A daytime talk-show was playing on it, the volume low. He turned to them when they were all there.

“Well?” he asked expectantly.

Crowley shrugged. “Nada. We didn't go in.”

Jesse's confusion was extremely apparent. “Excuse me? What....? But you guys have been gone like half the damned day already!”

Sam put an arm around his shoulder. “It's not so much as we _didn't_ go in....it's more like we _couldn't_ go in,” he said, looking over at Crowley. “Rowena and the Book of the Damned went missing. Those are important keys to the Cage.”

Jesse relaxed a bit, but was still visibly upset.

“Well, where the hell is she?”

“Working on that,” Crowley mumbled, walking to the door. “Justin!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Get your overpaid ass in here immediately!”

There was a loud scramble from the other room and the sound of pounding feet. Justin, white-faced and sweating, appeared in the door.

“I....I get paid?” he asked, confused.

“Well?” Crowley asked, ignoring the question and crossing his arms.

Justin frowned. “Sir, we actually _do_ have some intel on the disappearance, something that I believe you all will find very, very interesting,” he said. “WE found it while you were travelling back from the Cage.”

Crowley raised one eyebrow. “Good for you. You might actually survive until dinner at this rate. Show me.”

Justin bustled all of them, excluding Chuck, who was still in a very deep post-alcohol-induced sleep, into the conference room and cued up a video. It was a surveillance feed from Heaven's library, before it was destroyed. He pressed fast-forward until the building began shaking violently and falling apart. Castiel moved closer to the screen, turning paler seemingly with every step.

They all watched in horror as the Library collapsed completely, the camera shaking free of it's mooring and falling amid the rubble. They all turned their heads involuntarily to the side, following the new camera orientation.

There was a flicker of movement as something moved past the camera, partially obscured, but still in frame.

“There!” Justin shouted triumphantly, rewinding the tape and freezing it, then advancing the film step-by-step until the could make out some details of two figures moving rapidly through the rubble. Their clothing was visible, also a flash of red from a mane of hair reaching almost to the mid-back of the woman in the picture.

Crowley rubbed his chin. “Well I'll be...” he muttered. He looked at Justin. “I'd wager that there aren't very many dresses cut that tight running around in Heaven, what do you think Castiel?” he smiled, looking at Castiel.

Castiel had his eyes narrowed and was moving closer to the screen.

“Can you....can you zoom in on that other person?” he asked Justin.

“Sure, where?” Justin replied.

“His shirt...there's a logo on the back....”

Justin pressed a few buttons and the camera zoomed in. “Sorry, the resolution is going to be crappy,” he muttered.

“I can still read it,” Castiel said, nodding and straightening away from the Big Board. He scanned the equally shocked faces in the conference room and nodded again in acknowledgement.

“So, the question is, what in the hell was _he_ doing there with Rowena. And where are they both now?”

Jesse looked confused.

“Who's 'he'?” he asked.

“'The jacket says 'Sugar-Daddies',” Dean grunted in reply.

“So?”

“So, that's the name of the strip-club that Gabriel was running while he was hiding out. He's alive.”

Jesse looked at the screen and then shook his head slowly. “Gabriel? You're sure?”

Sam and Dean nodded in reply.

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Well, then, I have some bad news for you – no, he's not.”

It was Castiel's turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”

“The Witch? That was Rowena? Well, he _was_ with her, in Heaven.” He shook his head. “I never caught her name, though.”

“You saw her?”

Jesse nodded. “Like I said, we all ran into them....Suriel and Gabriel, and Rowena.”

“We....we who?”

Jesse swallowed hard. “The Heralds. And our Bosses.”

Castiel watched him for a few seconds and then slowly nodded in understanding. “And you all killed Gabriel?”

Jesse turned even paler, looking down at his feet. “Um, actually, I kind of did that.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, anger building up in his features. “You? How....why?!”

Jesse held up his hands “It was an accident, ok! I meant to blast the Angel and Demon, but my power went all...I dunno...haywire! It practically nuked the place.....when the smoke cleared....Gabriel was dead.”

Castiel glared at him and turned away. Jesse let out a deep breath.

“I....I'm really sorry, man....”

“What about Rowena?” Crowley said quietly from behind him.

Jesse shook his head. “No idea. She wasn't around. Sarah sent me packing to Limbo or wherever right after that.”

Crowley nodded, then, looking over at Sam, frowned. “What's so funny, Moose?”

Sam was shaking his head and grinning. “Nothing. It's just that... _how_ many times did Gabriel 'die' in the last month?” He shook his head. “Look guys, I'm betting good damned money he's out there somewhere, safe and sound.”

“Actually very likely, that,” Crowley admitted. “Still, why the grin?”

Sam nodded. “Well, these guys are all about killing Arch-Angels, right? Kill the last one and the Gates open? That's the ritual?”

They all nodded in reply.

“Well, seems to me they _think_ that they have the very last one secured with Suriel there. But in fact....”

“There's two...if Gabriel is actually still alive and in hiding somewhere,” Castiel finished, nodding. “They'll be sorely mistaken if they try to open that rift without all of the right keys in place.”

Sam's grin widened. “Oh yeah they will. And that kind of mojo has all kinds of bad after effects if it backfires.”

“Well, one for the good guys,” Crowley grunted. “Still, back to business, lads. Seems to me that we have a witch to find.” He jabbed his finger skyward several times at the ceiling. “Any of the portals still working, Castiel?”

The Angel cocked his head. “What makes you think that she's still up there?”

Crowley grinned in reply. “Amongst the ruins of Heaven? With every single treasure vault blown wide-open? Every single book and scroll and spell Heaven has just strewn out amongst the ash-littered clouds?” He shook his head. “Oh, she's still up there all right.”

Castiel nodded. “I see your point.” He let out a breath. “I know of one that is still functioning.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“You're not going to like it.”

Crowley turned his head to the side. “Why not?”

This time, it was Castiel who grinned. “You'll see.”

 


	5. Trick Play

# Trick Play

“Jones?” Sarah whispered, her voice echoing against the concrete walls of her cell. She sighed and leaned back in her cot. It was night time, but she couldn't sleep. Restless, she folded her arms over her chest and turned her head to the Kindle on the little table next to her. She huffed, briefly blowing a strand of hair into the air before it settled gently back onto her forehead.

“Yeah?” came a grumpy, dry-throated response from the cell down the hall from her. Sarah smiled.

“I hate you.”

There was silence in the darkness for a few seconds.

“So, what else is new?”

Sarah huffed again, sitting up and hugging her knees. “You do realize this is all your fault, right?”

She could practically hear the ambivalence from the other cell.

“So you've said like a million times since they caught us. You still haven't explained why.”

“It's all of your fault. The Heralds. Trevor especially.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Even me.”

More silence. Sarah let it pass, and continued.

“We're not what we're supposed to be,” she mumbled into her knees. “They promised us more power than this. You got lame-ass monster summoning. I got portals. It was going to be _more_.”

“Is there a point to all this maudlin?” Jones asked wearily.

Sarah frowned. “Well, yeah. It means we aren't....we weren't strong enough. To stop Castiel and Crowley. And now they got us.”

“And this is my fault how?”

“You could've been nicer to him, you know?. If you were, we would have been stronger already”

This time the silence stretched longer.

“I thought we all decided it was best to dump Jesse. If I recall, you were the one that made the portal to send him packing.” Jones answered, obviously perturbed.

“For safekeeping dumb-ass,” Sarah replied. “The original plan was to send someone with him to keep him company.”

“You mean to keep an eye on him.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, well forgive me for not leaping at the opportunity. That guy....he gives me the creeps.”

Sarah let out a breath of frustration. “We lost him because of that, you know? Now he's all about team Castiel and Crowley.”

“Well excuse the hell out of me,” Jones snorted back. “Like I was supposed to know he'd turn to the other side?”

“You would have known if you had just gone with him like I said to!” Sarah shouted.

“Give me a break, chica,” Jones retorted. “He wasn't exactly playing along before that. Him or Leon.”

“We couldn't afford to let him go, Jones!” Sarah yelled, standing up from her bed and going to the bars. “He's the key to all of this!”

She heard a rustle of sound as Jones had apparently also got up. She glanced through the bars to her right and saw his arms hanging out of his cell.

“Have....have you tried again?” he asked.

Sarah shook her head and closed her eyes. “It's no good,” she answered weakly. “They got us locked down good and tight.” She opened her eyes and stared, hatred welling up behind her eyes, at the various angelic and demonic sigils drawn onto the walls outside of their jail cells. She couldn't access her power at all, Jones either.

Jones sighed. “Yeah. Well, there's always a chance that they'll come rescue us, you know?”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. “Dude, don't even pretend that you can't feel it.”

“What?” Jones answered back in a croak, his voice very low. Sarah rolled her eyes at the rhetorical-ness of his question. Of course he knew. He felt it too.

She answered anway. “The new Heralds, Jones. They made new ones. They've....they've moved on.” She slumped against the bars. “We're screwed.”

“Sarah, we have no idea how many new Heralds they recruited. For all we know, they were just replacing the traitors.”

Sarah snorted. “Yeah, like Jesse can be replaced.”

“Why not?” Jones shot back. “They can take what they need from him, _with or without his consent_ \- don't forget that. No one is twisting his damned arm to play for the winning team.”

Sarah twisted her bottom lip, considering. “I....I guess.”

“See? They're coming for us, Sarah. Look, I....know...I know all too well about your issues with abandonment. But not this time. I mean it. I know it. Stay loyal.”

Sarah nodded, relaxing her shoulders. “Allright,” she whispered at last. “I trust you. I trust them.”

“And that,” came a voice over the intercom at the end of the hall near the door to the cells, “is the correct answer.” There was a buzz and the door clicked open. A figure in a suit strode through and narrowed his eyes at them both. “The cavalry is on it's way, loyal Heralds. I will let them know, I will let them both know, that you managed to keep the faith. That will....that will mean the world to them.”

Sarah squinted at the person, then she felt a tingle of excitement as she recognized him. So, they had a man on the inside....

“You...?” she heard Jones gasp.

The man looked at Jones' cell and nodded. He then looked at Sarah, smiling.

Sarah couldn't help but smile back.

 

***

 

David sighed in frustration and poked at the small campfire they had managed to light. He shivered.  _I thought it was supposed to be warm and cozy in Heaven_ , he thought, looking around. Then he frowned, examining the ruins.  _OK, so it isn't exactly having it's best day up here_ ....

He heard a footstep in the darkness and grabbed the Angel's Blade that he had found a few days ago among the scattered bodies. He relaxed when he saw that it was just Leon coming back from his scouting mission.

Leon lay a cloth sack down carefully at the side of the fire and nodded at David. “Anything yet?” he asked, glancing over at the person laying down on a fallen tree trunk behind them.

David shook his head. “Nope. Ever since that revelation that Crowley had sent him that message seven-million years ago....nada.” He glanced once again, watching the still form of the Angel. Gabriel had fallen into a kind of coma ever since David had read his mind. Nothing they had tried seemed to be able to wake him up. In the meantime, they had carried his body - well, mostly Kinsey had carried him with her telekinesis - to the outskirts of a ruined Angelic city, hoping to find anyone to help.

It had been at least two weeks, and they hadn't found another soul.

Leon nodded and sighed, opening the cloth sack. He rummaged in it a threw an apple at David, who caught it, smiling. “Ah, success.”

Leon shrugged. “It ain't much,” he said, taking out another one and biting into it. “But it's something.”

David chewed, looking around. Then he frowned. “Where's Kinsey?” he asked around a mouthful of fruit.

“Still scouting,” Leon shrugged. “I think she's about sick of apples.”

David nodded. “Well, it's about the only tree they have up here....that's still alive, anyway.” He looked around. “I wonder if that has something to do with the Garden.”

“Huh?”

“The Garden, you know? Eden. The apple tree was the one that was off-limits, right? The Tree of Knowledge?”

Leon smiled, taking another bite. “You feeling any smarter?”

David smiled back. “Nope. You?”

“Not from apples.”

David tilted his head, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Leon's smile touched his eyes. “It was a pomegranate that was the Forbidden Fruit, actually, not an apple.”

“Really? How'd you know that?”

Leon shrugged. “Years of Sunday school. Plus, science class and Google. Pomegranates are the only fruit growing on a tree native to the region where Eden was supposed to be.” He looked around. “My guess is that all of these apple trees are some kind of ironic Angel joke about humans getting the story wrong all these years.”

David's mouth twisted into a half-grin. “Weird joke.”

“Yeah, well, we're talking about _Angels_ , though, aren't we? Not exactly know as the best comedians in the universe,” Leon finished, standing up and licking his fingers. “I think I see Kinsey.” He stopped. “David....”

David felt a cold shiver run through him. He felt the shock of alarm from Leon through the 'background noise' he always received from other people in his immediate vicinity, whether he was actively reading their minds or not. He quickly found the Angel Blade again.

“It's OK guys,” Kinsey shouted. “I found some help.”

Leon did not relax, David noted, seeing his defensive stance. He literally felt pulses of energy coming off of him. He was readying a wave of zombie activating power. That was one of the reasons they had chosen a location so close to the city. There were Angel corpses everywhere, and with Leon around, that meant instant army if they needed one.

“What kind of help?” Leon called back.

“Only the best kind,” came a gravelly-voiced response. “Kinsey here tells me that you have an Arch-Angel among you?” Several figures stepped into the light of the campfire. David scanned them quickly. Castiel....Crowley....and Jesse?  _Jesse was there!_ David leapt to his feet. “Man it is good to see you....!” he yelled, moving forward, then he froze....

_Jesse?_

“Kinsey, can you....please come over here to me....” David said, his voice tight. She watched him, confused.

“David? What is it?”

Castiel and Crowley looked over at him as well. “Something amiss ex-Herald?” Crowley asked, tilting his head. “You do have Gabriel, don't you?”

David felt his blood draining from his face, his eyes locked on 'Jesse'. His power was registering....

“Kinsey....please,” he asked, holding out his arm.

Leon was also watching him, frowning. He followed David's gaze to 'Jesse', then frowned, looking to where he was looking....

_Gabriel._

“David...what is it?” he whispered.

“Guys, _that is not Jesse_ !” David hissed, bringing up his Blade.

Crowley frowned. “What are you talking about? He's been with us since....” his brow furrowed. “Wait....Castiel....weren't we...?”

Castiel was frozen, staring at Jesse. “Crowley....I can't....I can't _move_ ....”

'Jesse' smiled, his mouth stretching maniacally.

“Well done, David, that mind reading power is even stronger than I thought.....” Jesse said. His voice sounded.....off.

“What....we were....we were going to _rescue_ you...you were captured....but you were also in Atlanta....in the waiting room,” Crowley stammered. He grabbed his head with his hand. “How...? What....?”

'Jesse' strode forward towards the prone form of Gabriel. David strained to move, but he was similarly frozen. They all seemed to be. Leon had beads of sweat on his forehead, the energy pulse that he was holding glowing around him, but not moving any further.

“Ah, Gabriel...” 'Jesse' said. He straightened up and looked around at all of them. “You led us right to him. I can't thank you enough,” he said, smiling.

“Who are you?” Castiel growled.

'Jesse' shrugged. “Can't tell you. Not yet. _He_ could,” he said, glancing down at Gabriel. “If he were awake, that is. But my brother and I are going to make damned sure that that doesn't happen. Not ever.” His smile widened. “So, where's the Witch?”

“No idea,” David answered. “She disappeared.” He frowned, his power straining. “You're him, aren't you?”

'Jesse's” eyes flashed red. “You mean your former boss? The one you  _screwed over_ ?!” he said, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. It's me.” he shook his head. “You little ingrates.” He waved a hand at Castiel and Crowley. “You threw in with  _these guys_ ? Didn't I tell you how dangerous they were?”

“Yeah, like that wasn't the whole truth now, was it?” Leon interjected angrily. “It seems like it's you two that's the real problem around here.”

The Demon wearing Jesse's body shrugged. “All depends on your perspective, I think.” He bent down and picked up Gabriel's body gently, almost lovingly. “Thanks for the help, guys. Good luck finding Rowena. But....something tells me you better hurry.” As if on cue, the ground shook violently. Several buildings in the city that were still half-standing began to crumble and break apart further. The Demon smiled. “Consider that free advice.”

He disappeared, Gabriel along with him.

They all let out a gasp of air as they could suddenly move again. Crowley groaned and leaned against a tree for support, Castiel sunk to one knee, on hand grasping his forehead.

“Crowley....I ….I can remember now....”

Crowley was nodding slowly. “Me as well. Bloody hell.” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “They kidnapped Jesse....”

“....we went to the Cage, only to have to turn away. Find Rowena.” Castiel continued.

“And we found Gabriel with her on that video....” Crowley finished. “Jesse....” he frowned. “Those bastards duped us.”

Castiel nodded. “I can feel the spell wearing off. They made us forget that Jesse was a prisoner. Used him as a Trojan Horse, knowing that we'd take him up here with us.”

Crowley was looking at the ground. “And we led them right to the last Arch-Angel that they needed.” he said quietly. He watched the ground for a few seconds, then spun and hurled an echoing curse into the ruins of Heaven.

The ground shook again.

“Crowley,” Castiel whispered.

“Not now choir-boy, I'm smoldering.”

“Crowley,” Castiel repeated, more insistently.

“What Castiel?” Crowley growled. “In case you weren't aware, we just got played, not to mention that I absolutely  _hate_ it when someone mucks around in my head!” He turned around and stared at the angel. “Well, without the proper consent of course, but that's another story.”

Castiel frowned. “Crowley, they don't have Rowena. And we don't have a lot of time to find her.”

Crowley tilted his head angrily. “Castiel, we  _don't bloody need_ Rowena. In case you didn't notice, that was  _checkmate_ just now!”

Castiel met his gaze steadily. “It's all we have. We have to find her and the Book. Maybe we can find a way to stop them.”

Crowley smiled tightly, shaking his head. “If they kill Gabriel and Suriel.....”

“I know that, Crowley!” Castiel shouted. Crowley watched him. “Look, we can't stop. We can't stop trying.”

Crowley watched him carefully, then sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fine. Fine, we fight.” He looked around. “Any particular place you'd like to check first?” he asked sarcastically, kicking over a rock with his shoe. Heaven shook again, the sound of falling stones rattling to the ground loudly from the distance filled the air.

Castiel cocked his head. “That's easy.”

“Oh, is it?!” Crowley spat back, eyebrow raised.

Castiel didn't flinch. “Of course it is? Where would you go if you had access to the entire hoard of Heaven's treasures?”

“What does that have to do with any....?” Crowley sputtered. Then his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh....” he said, understanding.

Castiel nodded. “Let's go.”

 


	6. Stolen Signals

# Stolen Signals

Jesse opened his eyes slowly, groaning. He was sitting in a room in dim light on the floor, slumped back against a corner. He squinted his eyes in the half-light, trying to make out his surroundings.

There were a few....tables? _Gurneys_ , he realized with a cold shudder. He stood up on stiff legs, recent memory returning to him....

The Demon. The Demon had possessed him. Jesse closed his eyes and braced himself as a wave of dizziness hit him. He could remember everything that had happened, but it was difficult, like looking through a gauzy screen.

Events had played out like a movie, he had watched it all, but was powerless to intervene or interact.

The Demon had possessed him and transported himself back to Crowley's office in Atlanta. He had cast a spell around himself....something that warped their perception of him, made them forget that he was supposed to be missing....accept him....trust him....letting them lead him to....

Jesse went cold.... _Gabriel_.

He spun around getting his bearings. There was one heavy wooden door in the room, and light crept out from under it, providing the only illumination that he could see. There were three of the hospital gurneys in there with him, draped in sheets. He squinted at them....

There was the shape of a body under one of them.

He walked stealthily across the floor and slowly lifted the corner of the sheet.

It was Gabriel. Jesse moved his hand to the Angel's chest and nodded to himself as he confirmed the slow rise of fall of steady breathing. He was still alive. Jesse glanced around warily and snapped his fingers near Gabriel's ear.

No reaction. Jesse sighed and nodded to himself. The Angel was still out of it. That would complicate matters.

He moved to the door and placed his ear against it, listening. When he didn't hear anything, he tried to reach out with his power, extend his senses, to see if he was truly alone.

Jesse frowned. It felt as if there was a wall between him and the power. An unseen barrier. He could feel it stirring in there, but it was just out of his reach. He closed his eyes and strained for it, but after a minute or so, he let out a gasp of frustration.

It was sealed away.

He looked at the door and saw a light switch to the side of it. Glancing around again, he cautiously reached out his hand and flicked it on.

Soft, reflected light filled the room. Jesse caught his breath and frowned as he saw the walls. He walked over to the one opposite him and ran his hand over the stone tile.

Some type of Demonic or Angelic script, not painted onto the surface, was literally carved into the stone itself. He turned his head around the room, registering the various other symbols chiselled into the other tiles. There were dozens of them.

 _Well, that explains the power outage_ , he thought wearily, moving back over to the door. He tried the handle, but it was locked fast.

This was a holding cell. A holding cell for people with power.

He frowned as he heard voices from the other side, getting louder as they moved closer to his room. He pressed his ear back to the door, barely breathing so he could hear better.

“....telling you, brother, we still need the witch....,” Jesse heard through the door, the tone muffled badly. He still recognized the tone, though. The Demon.

“For the Book? Naturally. Or is it because you were stupid enough to let her identify you? Really, what is it with your ego, anyway?” The Angel.

“Pride. Deadly sin and all. Sue me. Doesn't change the fact that we need to find her.”

“And how do you propose to do that? Try to trick them again?”

“No, one time deal. You should know how that works. Their minds will be insulated to the same method.”

“Then how?” The Angel asked, very exasperated. “Heaven's Armies, or what's left of them, are prowling all over the place, looking for us _specifically_. Not to mention the fact that the entire realm is likely to collapse on itself within the day.”

“Are you afraid of Heaven's Armies?” the Demon taunted.

“You know that has nothing to do with it.”

There was a loud sigh from the Demon. “Still squeamish about killing Angels, are we?”

“Their suffering is....unnecessary.”

“What do you think it's going to be like for them once we're in charge, huh? You think they're going to enjoy _that_?”

A long silence followed.

“You take such delight in this, brother. Sometimes I wonder if we truly wish for the same goals.”

“Buyer's remorse?”

There was no response. Finally the Demon sighed.

“Look, no worries. Your win is my win. The universe needs structure, and we're the guys to bring it. Whether it wants it or not.”

“So, we need to go back to Heaven and find the Witch. Silence her. Take the Book if we can.”

“Looks that way, brother of mine. We should go now. They'll be searching for her. We need to beat them to it.”

“Make the call. And Gabriel?” the Angel asked.

“Same as before. Gone comatose. Not sure why.”

“And you are certain that it is really him this time? Not a copy?”

“Brother, we have spent the last six months tracking down and eliminating every possible copy of Gabriel in time and space. I just ran every test imaginable. This is him. The _real_ him, and the absolute _last_ him.”

“And you are equally certain that the room will hold him?”

“Yep, him and Jesse both. It's impossible to access Heavenly or Demonic energy in there.”

Another pause. “I think he's awake, now.”

Jesse felt a chill go down his spine.

“That does not matter. We can't use him until all of the Heralds are assembled.” Then, in louder voice, directed at the door, the Angel continued. “So just wait, Cambrion. The role that you must play is soon at hand.”

Jesse moved back from the door, fear creeping into him. _What in the hell did that mean_?”

 

 

***

 

“You know, Castiel, I'm never going to forgive you for that.” Crowley said, putting his smartphone back in his jacket pocket. He had just got the final directions from Justin as to the exact location of Heaven's Vault.

Castiel looked back at Crowley and smiled.

“Crowley, I warned you that you weren't going to like the Portal that was still open to Heaven.”

Crowley shook his head, shivering visibly. “'Not liking it' doesn't even come close to the levels of _horror_ that that place produces.” He tilted his head, considering. “I can't imagine why Hell

hasn't thought of using it, as a matter of fact.”

Castiel nodded. “They actually had a few a little while ago, before you came into power. We took them over and shut them down.”

“Good idea. I'm not certain even the eternally damned should be forced to endure a trip through that particular Portal.”

Castiel frowned. “It's a wholesome, fun, family environment, Crowley. Personally, I'm not certain why Hell wanted to use them in the first place. It is clearly a perfect place for a Portal to Heaven.”

“ _Chuck-E-Cheese_?!”, Crowley protested. “Wholesome and fun? My dear Castiel, trust me on this, there is nothing of either of the two in that franchise. If the six-foot smiling rat doesn't permanently traumatize any child daring to enter one of those places, then the toxic nature of the pizza there will.” He paused. “And what possessed the Angels to put the entrance underneath the plastic-ball pool?”

Castiel shrugged. “It looked fun to us. Besides, what Demon would be willing to try to break in through there?” He stopped in front of a large collapsed marble building, it's front gate smashed in by the earthquakes. He looked back at Crowley. “I think this is the place.” The rest of the group, Leon, David and Kinsey moved up and took up defensive positions around the open terrace leading to the entrance.

“ _Was_ the place....” Crowley muttered, kicking aside a loose stone. “There's hardly anything left of it.”

Castiel nodded grimly. “Heaven's Vault. I wonder if there's anything left in it. The Angels probably evacuated everything to Earth.”

Crowley rubbed his chin. “Do you know where?”

Castiel eyed him. “No. It's a secret location. That means only the people in charge of getting the treasures out of here would know.”

Crowley eyed him in return. “Aren't you supposed to be in charge up here? At least later when all of this is said and done? What good is it if you don't have all of the pertinent information-like, say, where the most powerful weapons and spells in the history of the universe are?”

Castiel smiled grimly. “Once the artifacts are safely secured, one of the guards would come to whomever is in charge and inform them of the location. Not before.”

“Very militaristic.”

“What did you expect Crowley? We're God's soldiers,” Castiel answered simply, clearing the marble debris away from the door. He frowned and reached down into the rubble, and pulled back a piece of dusty cloth. He blew away the dirt.

It was bright green.

Crowley smiled. “This is the place allright.” He turned towards the former Heralds. “OK kids, here's the deal. You stay out of sight, and if anyone or anything comes within a kilometer of this place, you give us a warning.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “You....are aware we could probably take them out ourselves, right?”

“Better not. I still want information out of you three, but we're up against a bit of a deadline now. If something were to happen to you before I got said information....”

Castiel cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “We really wouldn't want any of you to get hurt.... _right_ Crowley?”

Crowley didn't look back, but he relented and raised his eyebrows. “Right. Just....raise the alarm, OK?”

Leon grinned tightly and gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“Kids,” Crowley sighed, turning to move into the Vault's entrance.

 

***

 

 _There's got to be something I can use here_....Rowena thought, her mind racing. She scrambled around the room's floor again, brushing aside ruined parchments and broken statues, picking up the occasional artifact and shaking it. _Worthless_ , she thought, tossing another one away, panic setting in. The Angels that had come earlier when the earthquakes started had practically cleared out the entire Vault. Rowena had managed to remain hidden in a corner behind a pile of forgotten, empty cases. She had come out of hiding the second they had left. She had to find something.... _anything_ to defend herself. Her mind was swimming. _Him_?....she thought, the face smiling at her over and over again in her head. H _ow could it bloody possibly be him? My idiot son was supposed to_.... she froze as she saw a flash of light at the entrance. She listened carefully as footsteps walked into the room....two people. She crept silently further into the shadows....

The case she was hiding behind flew into the side of the wall suddenly, crashing into pieces.

Rowena let out an involuntary yelp and flung out her hand, casting a warding spell. Her eyes widened when she saw the pair standing there....

 

***

 

“Did you hear that?” Castiel whispered, pausing. Crowley nodded and they rushed forward down the hall, brushing past flung open iron gates. They came at last to a stone door that had been left open, it's front carved with glowing Angelic script. On the other side was a ransacked Vault of Heaven, it's treasures long gone. And....

“Rowena....” Castiel whispered.

She stood there, her eyes wide with fright, her mouth covered by the hand of a teenager glowing bright blue. The Demon stood off to the side of them, grinning widely.

“Late, as per usual,” he said. “Wow, you guys are _amazingly_ easy to beat, you know that?”

“Don't hurt her....” Castiel growled in warning.

“Oh, don't worry, we won't....not yet, anyway,” the Demon smiled. He patted the thick leaher tome he was holding. The Book of the Damned. “Still got some mileage left to go on ol' red here. No point in putting her out to pasture just yet.”

Crowley was just staring, seemingly dumbfounded. “How.....how did you....?”

The Demon winked at him. “Don't you get it? We're _better_ at this than you are.” His smile widened. “Oh, and by the way....that deal we had for our Heralds? It seems we won't be needing your help after all.”

“What do you mean by....” Crowley started. The Demon and Angel disappeared before he could finish, though.

Castiel walked a few paces into the Vault, his shoes scraping on the floor. He turned back to Crowley. “What did they mean they don't need their Heralds anymore....?” he hesitated, looking at the expression on Crowley's face. “Crowley?”

Crowley was stunned. He slowly, mechanically, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He stared at it in his hand, not saying a word. Finally, he looked up at Castiel.

“Because they already have them, Castiel.” he said quietly, his face turning pale.

Castiel, concerned , walked back towards Crowley. “Crowley....what is it?”

Crowley's face began to twist into something resembling pure rage.

“C'mon Castiel. We going back.”

 

***

 

They materialized outside of the holding cells, at Crowley's request. Castiel felt his stomach sink as he saw that, indeed, the cages were empty. Sarah and Jones were gone.

He looked around desperately.

“There's no sign of a break-in,” Castiel murmured. “How did they....?”

“Oh, it was easy, really,” Crowley answered cryptically. “They had the key.” He turned on his heel and hurried into the hall, flung open the door to the stairwell and began racing up them to his main office.

Castiel sprinted up behind him.

“How did they get the key?” he asked breathlessly.

Crowley didn't answer, he reached his floor and wrenched the door open so hard that it's hinge broke off. The door slammed against the wall askew. His eyes came to rest on the reception desk.

“Sir?” Justin asked from behind the desk, rising. “What happened? The last I heard from you....”

He never got a chance to finish.

With a primal snarl, Crowley raised his hand and Justin was pulled _through_ the heavy desk, marble and wood exploding in splinters all over the lobby. Justin hit the carpeted floor with a cry and Crowley flung his arm to the side. Mirroring Crowley's gesture, Justin flew off of the floor and into the wall under the company's gold-embossed plaque. The impact jarred the large nameplate from the wall, hit Justin in the head on the way down to the the floor, and clattered and rolled before coming to a halt.

Crowley advanced on Justin,, his hand in a fist extended in front of him. Castiel could hear Justin's bones snapping.

“S....sir...pl....please....,” he spluttered helplessly.

“How long?!” Crowley spat, still advancing. “How long, you little rat??!!”

“Crowley....?” Castiel asked cautiously from behind him. “Are you sure about....”

“Of course I'm bloody sure!” Crowley shouted back. “They've been one step ahead of us. Every. Single. Blasted. Time!” he growled, emphasizing each word with a twist of his hand. Justin whimpered in pain. “' _Better than me at this_ '....my dimpled ass....”. Crowley stopped just in front of him and leaned closer. “Isn't that right, Justin? Deny it! I'm bloody begging you....tell me that I'm wrong!”

Justin looked back at him, then....he smiled.

“You....you...won't win....” he managed. “You _can't_ win....the Masters of Heaven and Hell....the _true_ Masters....are coming to take what is theirs....”

“Who are they??!!!” Crowley snarled, his face inches from the spy's. “What are their bloody names??!!!”

Justin's eyes rolled back in pain, his breathing uneven and rasping. He focused them again and managed a bloody-lipped smile in Crowley's direction.

“Guess.”

Crowley's face twisted into a malicious grin. “Oh, you want it this way? Fine. I'll have you singing the entire Hallelujah choir before the hour's up, sunshine. Just you wait.”

“W....we....,” Justin gasped. “we really can't have that, sir. I'm....afraid I will have to be....tendering my resignation.....effective....immediately....”

There was a flash of fire from his chest, and Justin let out one more howling scream of agony. Crowley watched him in disbelief as he fell to the floor, the still-smoking symbol of the Cross and the Snake clearly showing as scorch-marks in his flesh. Crowley watched him fall, then spat on him and turned away towards Castiel, who was staring at the entire scene in utter shock.

“This whole time....” he said slowly.

Crowley nodded. “That's how those buggers have been getting the drop on us all of this time. They knew our every move.”

“Crowley....don't you ever _check_ who's working for you?” Castiel asked, incredulous.

Crowley shrugged, fury still evident on his face. “Demons. You take what you can get, and hope to hell that nothing like _this_ ever happens....Still, it could have been worse, I suppose....”

Castiel's eyes narrowed in confusion. “Worse? Worse, how?”

“He could have killed me months ago. At least eighty-percent of Demon partnerships end up that way.” He looked back at Justin's smoking corpse and sighed. “OK, Castiel, we have some work to do.”

Castiel nodded. “Where do we start?”

“Well, we have eliminated the cancer. Now we need to assess how much damage it managed to do,” Crowley answered, straightening his jacket and heading into the conference room.

 


	7. Offensive

# Offensive

“Another one, sir,” the Demon said, straightening up from behind the computer terminal in the server room. He waggled a piece of plastic with several detached wires running out of it and flung it onto a small pile of similar devices on the floor near Crowley's feet. Crowley watched it land, standing straight with his hands in his pockets, and sighed.

“That's half a dozen bugs so far,” he muttered to Castiel, who was watching the technician work. They had ransacked Justin's living quarters earlier in the day, and had discovered that his reporting of their activities and plans was more than comprehensive. The entire headquarters and network was monitored and bugged, and it had taken the better part of the morning to root out the majority of the hardware.

Crowley was _not_ amused.

“I want logs of all the data that was transmitted as well....” he mused. “Especially in the last two days.” He glanced sideways at Castiel. “We will, naturally, have to re-plan everything.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “We have a _plan_? What plan?”

Crowley stared at him for a second before waving his hand in the air.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, not really,” Castiel replied sourly. “Because everything we've been doing lately is almost purely reactionary.” He paused, considering. “Speaking with a soldier's experience, that is hardly an advantageous position to be in.”

“So, you recommend taking the fight to them?” Crowley answered, visibly annoyed. There was another clatter of plastic as the tech threw another bug onto the pile. “How do you propose that we start, oh master strategizer? We don't even know where, let alone who, they are!”

Castiel nodded and grunted, leaning down to the pile of computer chips. He picked one up and flipped it over in his fingers.

“Let me ask you something,” he said, casting his voice in the technician's direction. The Demon stuck his head out from around the corner of a server rack, squinting at the Angel in obvious displeasure, bordering on revulsion. “These devices,” Castiel continued, unperturbed, “they record our online and network activity and telephone conversations, correct?”

“Yeah, it's a bug, that's what they _do_....” the Demon answered, raising both eyebrows high in a mocking expression, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shook his head and disbelief and went to turn back to his work.

“And they transmit this data?” Castiel continued.

The Demon rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” Crowley had moved down to beside Castiel, looking at the chips himself in suddenly renewed interest.

“Transmits it to where?” Castiel asked quietly, not looking up from the chip he held in his hand.

“A remote server, genius” the Demon, answered, exasperated. “One that's been masked and re-routed a million times to hide the location.”

Castiel looked up, letting the piece fall to the floor. “Yes, but a computer expert, a tech-savvy person could say, trace the signal back to it's source?”

The Demon snorted. “Pal, I've been doing this for more than forty years, and I'm telling you, there is no way in hell I could trace that signal back. No frikking way.”

Castiel looked at Crowley, who met his eyes without blinking, comprehension showing in his face. Crowley began to smile. He turned to the Demon, his lip curling in contempt.

“Who said anything anything about _you_ tracing it?” Crowley snarled, turning on his heel and walking out of the server room.

 

***

 

“What's up bitches?!” Charlie greeted them, bouncing in the front door and immediately bear-hugging Dean and Sam. She chucked Castiel cheerfully on the shoulder and nodded at Crowley. “So, word is that you need The Alpha and Omega of all hackers, fellas – what're we looking at?”

Crowley smiled and held out his hand to the side. “By all means,” he said, indicating the neatly assembled pile of bugging devices and computers that they had rooted out as Justin's spy network.

Charlie's eyes went wide and she gave them an appreciative whistle. “Wow, you guys were _infested_....” she said, walking slowly over and flipping open the nearest laptop. She tapped the keyboard a few times , her eyes scanning the screen.

“Are you sure that you got it all?”

“There might still be some listening devices present,” Castiel answered gruffly. “We're going over the office a second time.”

Charlie nodded. “Better keep quiet then...” she whispered, her eyes smiling at them. She turned back to the laptop and began typing furiously for a minute or so.

Wordlessly, she held out her hand and crooked her finger, gesturing for someone to come over. Sam, Dean, Crowley and Castiel looked at each other in confusion, and finally Crowley, shrugging, started to walk over.

Charlie held up her palm for him to stop, then pointed at Sam, jabbing at the air furiously. Crowley skidded to a halt, looked back at Sam with obvious disdain, and went back to group, shaking his head. Sam smiled at him and went over to squat down next to Charlie.

“What's that look like to you, mi amigo?” she whispered to him as he watched the screen.

Sam frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “That's weird, it's almost like the signal gets re-routed and....is it re-written?”

Charlie held out her hand for a fist-bump. “Two-points,” she grunted. “But re-written as what?”

“Here...let me,” Sam said, turning the screen towards himself and typing on the keyboard. A picture came up of a sound wave. He opened the original message's window and positioned it side by side with the wave.

Charlie's eyes went wide. “Is that....sonar?”

Sam nodded. “Sort of. It's a tad more complicated. It's actually military. Used for subs operating in the same proximity to one another to communicate without radio. They send the signal through the water. Heavily encoded.”

“Whoah,” Charlie said, turning back to the screen. “But why underwater? I don't get it.”

“I think I do,” Crowley said. Charlie jumped a little, as Crowley had moved behind them silently. “Have you got the list of possible locations of the signal's destination?”

“Sure,” Charlie said frowning, pulling the text document up. “But there's like fifty possibilities on here. How'd you know which one?”

Crowley leaned in and tapped his finger on the screen at a city name in the middle of the list.

Charlie squinted at it, then went pale as she read it.

“Two reasons: one, because it's a location where we've determined them to be operating out of before, and secondly, it's the only one on this list that's underwater.” He straightened up and looked at the group.

“Get Leon, Kinsey and David. I'll round up every Demon and automatic weapon that I have.” He paused, tilting his head. “And scuba-diving gear, apparently. The villain's layer is going to be located under the sea.” He smiled in amusement. “How deliciously cliché. I love it.”

Dean nodded and went to go get the ex-Heralds. Castiel frowned and looked at Crowley. “Where are they?” he asked.

Crowley turned and picked up the laptop, turning the screen where Castiel could see it.

The screen was zoomed in on the list of locations, the words “New Orleans” showing across the white screen.

 

***

 

“Stop struggling,” the Demon whispered, leaning in close to Jesse, who was strapped to one of the gurneys. “It won't hurt.” He paused, looking away. “At least, I don't think it will.” He shrugged. “Could be wrong. You know what? Go ahead. Struggle. It won't do you any good. Might be funny.”

Jesse rolled his eyes instead.

“You think for one second you're scaring me, asshole?” he whispered. “You might wanna try show-tunes instead.”

The Demon tilted his head and smiled, patting Jesse on the shoulder. “Oh, I'm going to miss that wit, Jesse.”

“So, you gonna kill me?”

“Nothing so simple. See, Jesse, boy, you're a ripe little tomato right now, and we got some Heralds that need their Vitamin C.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes. “What're you talking about?”

The Demon tilted his head. “Well, since you didn't want to play along the nice way....might as well let you know. See, if you had been more cooperative, we were going to let your power build, then charge up the other Heralds with it. Make them a proper new group of Arch-Ang....”the Demon stopped himself, considering. “well....'Beings' is actually a more accurate term, since we're re-writing the rules here. The good part was, you would have been allowed to keep a good portion of your power. But since you went all 'rebel-with-a-cause' on us....well, let's just say our Heralds are going to get a _whole_ lot stronger now.”

Jesse nodded. “So...that's it then? I was never anything but a giant battery for you guys?” He frowned. “Mind telling me just how I keep getting stronger?” The Demon just stared in response, so Jesse continued. “See? I lived just fine in Australia for about 10 years. No problems. Power just stayed put. Almost dormant. It was really kinda....I dunno....nice. It wasn't until you two jokers showed up that it started increasing.” He met the Demon's eyes. “As far as I can tell, there's only one thing in the wide world that could do that. But that one...Crowley's got him locked up good and tight. Made sure of that. So, mind telling me – how'd you pull it off? How'd you get my power to start activating like this?”

The Demon watched him for a long time, before a smile began spreading on his face. He leaned in to Jesses's ear, who involuntarily flinched away.

“Why do you think we need _him_ , Jesse? Didn't you hear? We're what's _next_. Better. Stronger. Faster,” the Demon hissed. He watched Jesse and stood back from the table. He suddenly clapped his hands together, making Jesse jump in his restraints. “But, these are all trivialities now, Jesse, m'boy. We're gonna drain you until there is not a drop of power left in that cambrion vessel of yours. And there's not a damned thing you can do about it. You _had_ your shot, kid, and you blew it.”

The door to the room opened and Jesse heard feet walking across the concrete. He craned his neck as far as he could and saw the figures that had entered the room; Trevor. Jones. Sarah, and four other teens that he didn't recognize. The Angel was standing behind them, smiling.

“Are we ready?” the Angel asked, looking at his 'brother'.

“Oh, he's ready allright,” the Demon answered. “Let's get this Apocalypse rolling.”

 

***

 

“Well, that's impressive, if it's anything,” Crowley said, looking out of the window of his Triton 1000 submarine. Dean was in the passenger seat, the others were teamed up in several other subs as they cut through the detritus-filled waters nearing the location of Joshua's Vandecourte's mansion. The light beams played across the surface of the gothic and castle-like house, but the windows were all dark and obscured – no way to see inside.

“It looks intact,” Castiel's voice came in over the radio. “The water....it seems to be held back from the structure itself.”

Crowley leaned forward, squinting through the darkness. “Some kind of field holding it away. I can't see anything, but dollars to doughnuts that they're in there.”

“What....are you hungry?” Castiel asked. Crowley looked over at Dean, who shook his head slowly.

“It's one of those expressions, Cas,” Dean answered. “It just means that Crowley thinks they're definitely in there.”

“Ok,” Castiel answered, sighing. “Any ideas on how to get in there without breaking that field and letting the water in?”

“I teleport you in, one at a time,” Crowley grunted in reply. “You ready?”

“Crowley, this is going to be a fight. Most likely a brutal one. Are you....certain we should be bringing the children with us?”

There was a snort of protest from within Castiel's sub and Leon's voice came on over the intercom. “Yeah, well, speaking for myself, these jackasses got some whoop-ass coming their way. And I'll be damned if you're going to keep me and mine from getting our hands on them. Just sayin.”

Crowley looked at Dean and nodded. “Well then. Let's get started.”

 

***

 

They found themselves in a large living room inside the mansion, staring out at a blue sky and sunshine.

“Illusion,” Castiel grunted, waving his hand at the window. The air seemed to ripple.

“Keeps the place from getting too gloomy, I suppose,” Crowley said, turning and scanning the room. “Now, where are our....”

“Honey, we've got company!” a mocking voice rang out from the adjoining hall. Castiel, Crowley, Dean and Sam immediately went into defensive positions. Leon grabbed a metal poker from the large fireplace, Kinsey took a step forward, fists balled up at her sides.

“Guys....wait...something's....” David began.

Several figures walked into the room. The Demon and the Angel stood behind the seven teenagers in front of them.

“Guys....” David said, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“Crowley....” Castiel added.

“Oh c'mon! You two came all this way to take us out and save Jesse, right?” Well, what are you waiting for?!” The Demon mocked.

“Crowley...” Castiel repeated, his voice dropping lower.

“So, bring it on!”

“....it's too late....” Castiel murmured. “They have the power level of Archangels now....”

Crowley didn't take his eyes off of their opponents, but glanced sideways nervously at Castiel.

“Which ones?”

Castiel let his Angel Blade fall into his hand, lowering his head.

“All of them.”

 


	8. Head to Head

# Head to Head

The _USS Dauntless_ bobbed gently on the waves over the former city of New Orleans. Electronics Technician Flannery suppressed a yawn as he ran the deep scan again. The multi-pixeled arm of the sweep ran across the screen, leaving a trail of data behind it. Still no large metal deposits, he noted in his log, moving to the next section, shaking his head slightly.

The whole city goes down, and what does the government task them to do - look for art and irreplaceable artifacts? Recover records or valuable documents? No. Bank vaults. They wanted them to find frikking bank vaults. Before the 'pirates' got to them. He blew out a breath and looked out of the large port-side window, shaking his head again.  _Yeah, right_ , he thought, like anyone could get through the virtual armada that sat atop the Bay of New Orleans at the current time. There were at least twelve destroyers, one fully deployable aircraft carrier running inspection sorties every twenty minutes, ten or so hunter-killer submarines and a smattering of government research and reconnaissance vessels. He turned back to his screen as the sweep was finishing, showing absolutely....

He froze.

“Ma'am?” he called out across the bridge to the commander's station. Commander Marcia Telfit looked up from her briefing, her Executive Officer standing next to her, also looking up.

“Do you have something Flannery? Is it a hit?” she asked, her voice sharp and precise.

“I....I'm not exactly sure what I have, Ma'am, Flannery stuttered, eyes flashing across the data readout. He quickly hit a few keys on his keyboard and started printing a hard-copy for the record, and shared his screen with the Commander's terminal. “Sending it to you now, Ma'am.”

Commander Telfit frowned and looked down at the screen. Her frown faded and she paled.

“Are those...?”

Flannery felt his brow begin to break out in a sweat, the next scan was already halfway through, and the red waves of data were intensifying quickly, exponentially.

“Yes Ma'am!” he found himself shouting. “Shock-Waves. Richter-Scale level....and coming fast!”

Commander Telfit and her Exec moved out from behind her station and sprinted over to the scanning station, passing under the large sign bolted to a beam stating in large red letters 'No Running on the Bridge!', and bent over Flannery's screen.

“Any....chance of malfunction?” she grunted softly.

Flannery shook his head, growing cold. “Five-by-five, Ma'am, the board is green....oh my God....it's for real....”

“Stow it!” Commander Telfit snapped, straightening up. “Comm! Channel Alpha, All-Fleet message – abandon the area! Double-time! Authentication Bravo-Ten!” she yelled, whipping her head around the bridge. “Helm! Spin up all screws, get us the hell out of here!”

“It's too late....it's too late....” Flannery heard himself muttering, as if from very far away, his eyes growing wide as a third sweep showed the waves of death sweeping up towards them.

“I said  _stow it_ !” Telfit barked at him. “All hands, brace for impact!”

Flannery closed his eyes slowly, saying a small prayer to himself.

And braced for it.

Claxons rang across the bridge, but there was no shouting, no screaming. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. The steady ping of the radar and sonar systems rhythmically rang in the air.

And then....nothing....

“Wha....who in the hell are you?!” Flannery heard Commander Telfit's voice break the semi-silence with a jarring note. His eyes snapped open.

A man was standing in the middle of the bridge, breathing heavily, half-bent over. There was sweat and blood on his face. Flannery, confused, narrowed his eyes at him. He was wearing a battered and torn beige trenchcoat. It was also covered in blood. He was holding the hilt of some kind of silver weapon in his right hand. The tip of it had apparently been broken off.

At the Commander's question, he slowly, painfully raised his head and eyes to her.

“....get....get your ships out....” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Commander Telfit crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head.

“Mister, first off, what do you think we're doing right now? Secondly, I asked you a question....” She moved over to him, bending over to his eye level. “....who in the hell are you, and what are you doing on my damned bridge?”

“I can't...I can't....” the man replied with strain and difficulty. “I can't hold it off for long....get your people out of here.”

The Commander squinted at him. “Hold what off?”

Flannery's eyes flicked back to his screen, and widened in disbelief. “Ma'am....?” he whispered.

Commander Telfit turned her head partway towards him in irritation. “Not now, Flannery....”

“Ma'am!” Flannery barked back, causing her to turn all the way around towards him, furious.

“Better be good, Technician.”

“It is....,” Flannery replied, tilting the screen towards her. “The waves, Ma'am, they're stationary....not moving towards us any more.”

“What?” Telfit answered, standing up and walking over to him, staring at the screen. She watched it, then slowly turned her head back towards the invader in the bridge, raising one eyebrow.

The man nodded weakly at her. “Yes....now.... _please_....will you....get out of here....while you still can?”

The Commander clasped her hands slowly behind her back and looked at the ceiling. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded to herself.

“Helm? Are we still heading out?”

“Ye....yes Ma'am,” the crewman replied.

“Good. Full speed, if you please.” She turned her head again. “Comms? Is the message sent and received?”

“Yes Ma'am, another technician replied immediately. “All vessels acknowledged. Some of them have spotted the danger on active sonar as well. All ships leaving the area.”

Commander Telfit nodded slowly and turned her gaze back to the stranger, who was obviously straining against something unseen. She bent close to him.

“I suppose a 'thank you' is in order. Those blast waves would have crushed my ship....all of our ships. Is there....” she frowned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The man raised his cool blue eyes to her and grimaced.

“Yes....stay out of the way....”

And then he simply....disappeared.

 

***

 

The attack from the new Heralds was quick and brutal.

Waves of power flew at the collected heroes; Castiel braced himself and held up his Blade defensively in front of him. Crowley sent up a sheer wall of glimmering force. David was close beside him eyes closed, lips moving rapidly, brow furrowed in concentration, Leon flew to the back of the room, taking cover behind a large sofa. Kinsey sprung forward and slammed into the youngest of the Heralds, the impact sending small shockwaves through the room. They spun off through the wall, sending debris everywhere. Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

“Now! Now!” he screamed into it. “We're under attack!”

Castiel swung his Blade wildly, knocking back an unseen force wave, and sprang forward, laying about him with the Blade, scattering the Heralds. He cleared a space and looked up at the Angel and Demon, who were standing back, not attacking. Dean and Sam sprinted up beside him, leveling pistols at the pair.

In response to Crowley's call, there was a crashing sound as several Demons teleported in and began to engage with the Heralds.

Sarah whipped her head around and smiled wickedly. She sprang forward to the couch that Leon was hiding behind, and with one hand, threw it aside. She grabbed Leon by the shirt and hauled him up to her face with a snarl.

“What in the hell you doing here, traitor?” She smirked. “Look around you, Lee-on. No zombies without dead bodies, right?” She tightened her grip and leaned closer, whispering. “Well, at least not  _yet_ ....”

Leon stared back at her, and grinned. Sarah blinked, confused.

“You do know where we are, right?” he asked.

“Bottom of the ocean – middle of nowhere, what's your point, idiot?”

Leon shook his head. “Wrong. We're in what used to be New Orleans.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So? You think they don't have cemeteries in New Orleans? Big, sprawling, cemeteries?”

Sarah cocked her head. “Big deal, you'll be dead by the time you can call for help.” She cocked her fist. “Say goodnight turncoat.”

A wet slapping sound filled the air as several fists closed around Sarah's arm. Her eyes widened in shock as a decomposing hand and arm dripping wet with seawater wrapped around her throat and pulled her off of Leon.

“Bitch, I summoned them an hour ago,” he said, standing up, hands to his side, green smoke pouring out of his palms.

The room filled with the sounds of groaning and moans as zombies began to pour into it from the top floor and basement. There were hundreds of them, and despite the raw power of the newly minted Arch Angels, they were being swarmed.

Castiel smirked up at the Angel and Demon.

“Did you think that we weren't ready for this?” the Angel said, unconcerned. He nodded at the Demon, who turned around and picked up a shape from the floor.

Jesse.

Castiel's smile faded.

“Let. Him. Go.”

The Demon cocked his head. “Simple request. He's worthless to us now. We give him to you, and you call off this foolish attack.”

There was a scream from one of the Heralds, Sarah, from the melee behind them. The mansion shuddered as Kinsey exchanged blows with her opponent.

“Oh, I dunno about 'foolish',” Dean quipped, raising his eyebrows. “We seem to be doing pretty good.”

The Angel glowered at him. “In a heartbeat my Brother and I could crush you all into oblivion.”

Sam waved his pistol demonstratively.

“Uh-uh sparky. Unless you want to get pumped full of my special anti whatever-the-hell-you-two-are ammo. You didn't seem to like that back at the Mall.”

They both glared at him.

The Angel spread his hands out to his sides. “Then we are at an en-pass. You can certainly  _injure_ us perhaps, but as this fight continues, we will surely destroy each other. We have offered to return Jesse Turner to you, as promised. Now, how do we get you to finish our original deal and leave here?” He glanced behind Castiel's shoulder, to where David and Crowley had worked their way over to them.

“The other hostages,” Castiel growled. “Gabriel. Suriel. Rowena.”

The Angel smiled. “I can't give you what we don't have. I'm afraid the intrepid Suriel is dead.”

“Impossible. How?”

“That missile that your friend there fired,” the Angel answered smoothly, inclining his head towards Crowley. “She was incapacitated, not inside of a human vessel, and cut off from Heaven and her power supply. What do you think happened to her then?”

Crowley paled. “Is he right?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes. I think so....” he answered, looking a bit sick.

“You two are doing a better job at removing the competition that we are!” the Demon gloated. “Hell, Bro, we should just give them Gabriel for laughs. They'll end up killing him within the week!”

They all stared at each other in their own bubble of hateful silence, the chaos of the battle behind them forgotten.

“We are....willing to bargain....” the Angel finally said. “You can have one of them. But only if you agree to leave. Immediately.”

“What kind of a BS deal is that?” Dean protested. “What? You want us to choose?”

The Angle nodded, smoothly. “That's exactly what we want.” His eyes locked on Castiel.

Castiel returned the gaze unflinchingly. “Gabriel, then.” He turned to Crowley, who shrugged in affirmation.

“They get stuck with Rowena?” he muttered. “Serves them right, if you ask me.”

David touched his shoulder.

“Wait.”

The Angel turned a burning gaze to the mind-reading ex-Herald. “You be  _silent_ ....” he hissed.

“It's....this is what they want....” David continued, unperturbed. “Or....more accurately, what they were  _counting_ on.....Castiel would naturally select his Brother....and Crowley, well, it's no secret how he feels about Rowena....”

“Too late!” the Demon roared. “Deal's a deal!” There was a rush of air as a pair of doors behind the two sprung open, and a body flew out from behind them, landing on the floor in a heap, Gabriel's unconscious face turned towards them. “Now....if I'm not mistaken, that means 'GO'!”

“Wait a second, no one ever agreed to jack shi....” Dean began.

The Demon and Angel raised their hands in tandem, and walls of force buffeted them all back. Castiel reached down and scooped up Gabriel in his arms, handing him over to Crowley and David.

“Light 'em up!” Sam shouted, pulling the trigger on his weapon. Bullets flew out of their guns, striking the Angel and Demon in the shoulders. They screamed in pain.

“Heralds!! To us!!” the Angel bellowed. There was the sound of rushing wings, and suddenly, all seven Heralds were assembled around the duo.

“Then, if you won't leave willingly....” the Angel whispered, his eyes glowing blue. The Demon's eyes began to glow as well, along with all of the Heralds. The air began to literally shake with power.

“It seems our home has been compromised,” the Angel continued. “Infested. I'm afraid the only solution remaining....”

“Is extermination....” the Demon finished.

In a flash of light, they all vanished, but the waves of force that they had summoned remained behind.

Castiel cried out in sudden pain as the waves stuck his outstretched arm. There was a ringing snap as his Angel's Blade broke midway down. He turned a panic look back to the others.

“Go!” he yelled. “If these waves get loose, they'll rip us all apart!”

“Castiel....” Crowley started forward.

“No time to argue!” Castiel grunted. “It's taking all of my power to hold this back. Get out of here NOW!!”

“Ok, go, go!” Sam shouted, hustling the others together. They began to teleport, one after the other, back to the subs and safety. Crowley and Dean were the last to go. The walls of the mansion were shaking so violently that they had became a blur. Castiel stood in the middle of it all, a small center of calm, his hands pushed out to his sides, straining as if he were holding back the world.

“Cas?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“I'll see you all soon,” Castiel answered in a groan. “There's just one more thing I have to do....please....please go....”

Crowley grimaced, then nodded and he and Dean instantly vanished.

Castiel looked up at the empty room, sensing the thousands of souls above him on the water's surface.

 

***

 

Commander Telfit watched in silence as the huge plume of water exploded into the air. She braced herself as the massive ensuing wave rocked the ship violently. When it had finally settled, she turned her head wearily to the side.

“Report?”

“Minor damage to the aft rotors and a couple of the stabilizing jets, but otherwise, fine Ma'am,” her Ex-O replied, looking over the ship's diagnostic console.

“The rest of the fleet?”

The Ex-O nodded. “All clear, Ma'am.” He breathed out in relief. “We got lucky.”

The Commander turned her gaze back out to the bay. “Luck had nothing to do with it, Mister,” she replied. “We got divine intervention,” adding, in a whisper.

 

***

 

Back in Atlanta, the conference room was deadly silent as images of the tsunami-like wave that had hit the new coast of Louisiana ran across the Big Board.

There was a ruffle of motion and Castiel appeared in the corner, immediately collapsing to one knee.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, rushing over.

“I'm allright, Dean,” Castiel answered, waving him off. “Exhausted is all.” He turned his gaze up to Crowley.

“Gabriel?”

Crowley nodded. “In one of the offices layed out on a couch. He seems to be in some kind of coma. Jesse as well. But they're both alive.”

Castiel let out a breath of relief. “So, the question is, why would they surrender him instead of Rowena?”

Crowley nodded again. “There are two Arch-Angels remaining. Lucifer in the Cage, and Sleeping Beauty back there. He seems to be the more valuable asset.”

Castiel frowned. “They need Rowena for something. Obviously something important. Otherwise they wouldn't have traded Gabriel for her.”

“Obviously.”

“And maybe also some kind of spell in the Book of the Damned.”

“Goes without saying,” Crowley sighed, sitting down at the table.

“That's a shame for them then....” Castiel said, a small smile appearing on his face.

“What are you talking about?” Crowley asked, rising from his seat. “Castiel....what is....s” His jaw slackened when he saw what Castiel was pulling out of his coat.

He stood up with Dean's help and layed the gruesome tome on the table.

“I....may have slipped this away from them before they teleported out. I hope they didn't need it too badly.”

 


	9. Game Changers

# Game Changers

“He's a spy,” Crowley grunted, letting his arm drop to the conference table. “Only thing that makes sense.”

“Wait....an unconscious, probably comatose,  _spy_ ? What....could they possibly get out of that?” Sam replied, brow furrowed.

“You tell me Moose,” Crowley answered, annoyed. “You're obviously the tactical expert here....why would they surrender Gabriel to us so easily?”

“You just call that easy?” Dean grumbled, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“You saw how they blew us out of there at the end?” Crowley answered, raising his eyes. “Got another explanation? They could have done that at any point.”

“That was end game, Crowley,” Sam replied easily. “We have no idea when they completed that power transfer from Jesse. For all we know, they needed that time to gather their strength. And, to be quite honest, I don't think they expected to see us there at all.”

“Allright, then why bargain at all?” Crowley snapped back. “They pushed him on us, boys, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why.”

Sam blew out a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, with all that being said,  _I_ think we got lucky, fellas. We took a major player off of the board for them, and with what  _Cas_ did....” He shook his head. “Speaking of which....I'm going to go see if I can help Charlie with that Book. We need to get into that Cage.” With that, he nodded at them and walked out into the hall.

Crowley shook his head and looked up at Dean, who raised his eyebrows at him.

“I don't believe in luck,” Crowley said quietly. “They maneuvered Gabriel here. This is a chess game.”

Maybe it isn't,” Dean replied.

“Come again?”

“Well, maybe it isn't chess at all....looks to me more like dominoes.”

Crowley raised one eyebrow. “You've been watching those  _Hevesh5_ YouTube videos again.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah....so? That has nothing to do with it....”

“Then how is it dominoes, Dean? Enlighten me,” Crowley said, leaning back.

“Well, it seems like one falls, and then all kinds of things start falling after it, like an uncontrollable chain reaction.”

“And what was the first domino to fall?” Crowley asked, interested.

Dean shrugged. “Hate to say it, but it was when Cas killed Raphael.”

Crowley steepled his fingers, looking aside and nodded slightly to himself. “I see....the first Archangel to die....” He looked up. “Continue,” he added, more as a command than a request.

Dean didn't seem to notice. “Right. Opening Purgatory, absorbing it's power. Sound familiar so far?”

Crowley nodded. “The same gambit that our mysterious adversaries are attempting. But, I might remind you, to a much more lethal degree. They intend to open the gates beyond it and wield the power of the....” he wrinkled his brow, thinking.”....what is it, exactly? The Darkness? The Old Ones?”

“Pretty much all of it. The exact opposite of God, if you want to try to name it.”

“And set themselves up as the new Gods, sort of like Castiel attempted, but failed. Yes, that part I got,” Crowley muttered.

“So, by killing Raphael, that lock is weakened right?”

“Naturally,” Crowley replied.

“Then comes Lucifer wiping out Michael in the Cage....”

Crowley nodded. “Then Abel, then Ramiel – well, Castiel told me he was killed in the very,  _very_ distant past as a direct result of this fight, but regardless – then Suriel.”

“How many are left?” Dean asked.

“Lucifer, Gabriel and Raguel, the Archangel of Vengeance,” Crowley answered, ticking them off on his fingers.

“We ever hear anything about Raguel?” Dean grunted, pouring himself a drink of soda.

Crowley shrugged. “Gabriel said he questioned him after a summoning. Bound him to answer truly and then dismissed him as a suspect.”

“Yeah, well, process of elimination and all – he's like the last one standing, right?”

Crowley shrugged. “Looks like it. Maybe we need to have a chat with him as well. At the very least, to make sure he's still alive.”

“So, if they kill Gabriel and Raguel....they can open the lock?” Dean asked.

“And Lucifer. He's still technically part of the spell guarding that lock.”

Dean frowned. “And he's locked up good and tight. When we talk to him, let's be more than extra careful to keep it that way.”

“Naturally.” Crowley replied simply. “So, let's see if we can't locate Raguel in the meantime.”

“Or....not,” Dean muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

“Or _not_ ,” Dean repeated with emphasis. “Isn't that what we do? We find another Arch-Angel, go after them, and then 'boom', they end up dead. It's like the Demon said, we're doing their job for them.”

Crowley rubbed his chin, considering. “It's not a completely invalid point,” he conceded. “Alternatives?”

“Maybe we find him, sure, but just make sure he's OK....leave him alone....stop the dominoes from falling, if you catch my drift.”

“And make sure he's not actually the one doing the pushing,” Crowley growled in response. He sighed. “Allright then Squirrel,” he said, picking up a remote and pointing it at the Big Board. “Let's get cracking.”

 

***

 

“What the hell does that symbol mean....holy cheese and crackers....” Charlie muttered, blowing a lock of red hair out of her eyes in frustration. She looked up as Sam entered the room. Sam smiled at her tightly.

“That good, huh?”

“Let's just say, it was a lot easier when there were two red-heads working on this instead of one, OK?”

“But you did crack the code once, right?” Sam asked, sitting down and frowning at the pile of notes at Charlie's side.

“I cracked the code for _one spell_ , technically,” Charlie frowned in reply, then sighing. “Before that Styne moron thought that he killed me....”

“Yeah, nice trick there, by the way, using that illusion ward that Rowena gave you.”

“Fooled you guys too, unfortunately,” Charlie grinned back. She looked down at the table sheepishly. “Sorry about that, again....”

“Hey, stop, you've apologized for that enough already. These things happen in our line of work,” Sam answeredm smiling and shaking his head. “Wow....we really need another job.....”

Charlie rolled her eyes...”Booooorrrring....” she drawled. “Hey!” she said excitedly, looking back at the Book. “I think that means 'cat'!”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Um....wow?”

She slapped him playfully in the back of the head. “No, doofus, that's a really cool thing! Now I can narrow down some of these other words here....”

Sam looked down at the Book with her. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Mmmmm....Hot Pockets?” Charlie answered, not looking up. “Microwave in the corner, fridge on the back wall....”

“Right....” Sam answered awkwardly, turning his head around and locating the fridge. “Be back in a sec.” he said, getting up.

Promptly saving his life.

The chair that Sam had just risen from exploded in a series of four quick popping explosions. The 'whuff' of air from a pistol with a silencer the only indication of the attack coming from behind the door.

“Charlie, get down!!” Sam yelled, looking around wildly. But Charlie had already grabbed the book and was crouched under the thick oak table. Several more shots hit the chair she had been in and then ran across the top of the tables surface, sending wood chips flying over their heads.

Sam looked out briefly from under the table and saw a gun barrel bent around the edge of the door, the shooter hidden from sight. “He's firing blind,” Sam whispered furiously. “You OK?”

Charlie nodded furiously in response.

“Ok, any ideas?” Sam whispered.

Charlie narrowed her eyes and suddenly grabbed underneath Sam's jacket, yanking something out of his belt.

Her hand came out with the Demon Knife as she simultaneously rolled around the table from her hiding place. Crouching, she sprinted in an eyeblink to an angle from the door and let the Knife fly.

There was a grunt of impact and the tell-tale crackling sound of energy as the Demon was destroyed. Charlie smiled and gave Sam the thumb's up, standing up and brushing herself off.

“Charlie!” Sam yelled in warning as he saw the impossibly fast blur of motion dart by in the hallway behind her.

Charlie's face paled and she ducked out of the way as something went flying past her head to land with a clatter on the reading table. There was an small explosion and the sound of breaking glass as the table burst immediately into flames.

_Molotov cocktail_ .... _great_ , Sam thought, grunting and shielding his face against the sudden flash of heat. He moved out from behind the tables as the flames accelerated, catching onto the floor as well. He flew over to Charlie's side and risked a look out of the door into the hall. There was an immediate rain of bullets from the other end of the hallway, slamming into the door frame where Sam's head had been.

“At least three more of 'em,” Sam said. “We're trapped.”

“ _Waitacottonpickinminute_ , don't high-end buildings like this have fire-suppression systems or something?” Charlie protested, looking around.

As if on cue, a loud, ringing claxon alarm went off and several sprinklers began covering the room in water. The flames on the burning table spit and protested, but began to dampen.

Sam looked at her, water streaming over his face. “Aren't you ever wrong?”

Charlie beamed back at him and spit some water out of her mouth. “Not on purpose,” she said, getting up and running back into the room. “C'mon, let's get out of the way until the cavalry gets here.”

 

***

 

“What the hell?” Dean said, standing up from the table where he and Crowley had been scanning the Big Board for any possible clues as to Raguel's whereabouts. The alarm rang out clearly and the light by the door marked' Fire' was blinking on and off.

Crowley pushed a button on his remote and the screen switched to a layout of the office. The room where Charlie and Sam had been was lit up in red.

“Is that...?” Dean asked.

Crowley nodded.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled, pulling out a pistol and rushing out into the hall.

He sped around several corners before coming to the hall where the fire was. He ran around the corner and immediately ducked back as he saw the three gunmen aiming at the room Sam and Charlie were in.

“Trouble, I take it,” Crowley said from Dean's shoulder, materializing out of thin air.

“Geez!” Dean responded in a hiss of surprise. “Man, cut that out....”

Crowley, ignoring him, poked his head around the corner, squinting.

“I think I know those guys....”

“Some of yours?” Dean asked.

“Yeah....” Crowley mused. “The ones that were crowding us outside the entrance to the Cage, as a matter of fact....I had been meaning to speak with them about that....”

“Seems like a moot point,” Dean grunted, cocking his pistol. “Obviously working for the bad guys....”

“And they really don't want us getting into that Cage, it appears....” Crowley mused. “Take them alive, if you ca....Castiel...no!”

Castiel had appeared in the hallway and had grabbed two of the Demons, placing one palm over each of their foreheads. Flashes of light and smoke rose from their eyes and they collapsed to the floor in a heap. At Crowley's cries, however, he stopped and looked over quizzically.

“Alive, Castiel! Alive!”

Castiel nodded, and without looking, caught the last Demon's arm in mid-air that was swinging at his head. Using the momentum, he swung the Demon off of his feet and slammed him into the ground. He spun to his feet and grabbed him by the collar and held him up to the wall, his feet dangling in the air.

“Not you're day, friend,” Castiel growled. “Let's have ourselves a little talk.” He looked over as a very wet Charlie and Sam peeked out from the room they were in and strode out. He looked back to the Demon, who met his eyes with obvious contempt burning in them. Crowley and Dean had made their way over, Crowley looking the survivor up and down, an equal level of disgust in his eyes.

“I  _hate_ spies....” Crowley hissed. “My friend, you are in for an entire  _universe_ of hurt....”

The Demon looked at Crowley and sneered. Crowley didn't blink, just continued to glare.

After a moment, something like real fear met the Demon's eyes.

Crowley smiled.

 

***

 

The screams from the other room made Sam shudder. He looked up at Castiel, who stood grim-faced by the door.

“That doesn't bother you?” Sam asked.

“It's a Demon,” Castiel answered, then frowned. “I....suppose it should bother me....it is still technically a living creature...” His frown deepened. “Or....no, technically it isn't....” He sighed. “This used to be easier for me...good and evil....”

Sam shrugged. “You think I have it all figured out? I mean....that thing in there is evil, pure and simple, but what Crowley is doing to it....does anything deserve that? Where's the line?”

“I think maybe I can answer that....” Dean said quietly from his seat at the table. He looked up at them all.

“Yes, that thing in there is evil, would kill us and everyone we know in a heartbeat if we let it. And yes, Crowley is going to get it to talk, because that's what he does. And yes, we need that information, or a lot of innocent people are going to get hurt, or worse. And no....  _nothing_ in the world deserves what he's doing to it.” He stood up. “I'm stopping this crap right now....” he said, moving to the door.

The door opened and Crowley stepped out, looking around.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

Castiel looked at Dean, who sighed and dropped his head. “Difference of opinions that's all....look, Crowley, when this is all over, we need to talk....”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Sure thing. In the meantime, I got what I needed.” He looked around the room. “Why does everyone look so sick all of a sudden?” He stopped and nodded, realization coming to his eyes. “Oh. Right then. I get it. You got too close to the butcher's office, I see. Well, kids, I'll apologize later, in the meantime, I was right.”

“Right about what?” Sam asked.

“They were working with Justin. They were fulfilling his last instructions.” He stopped and looked around again.

“And?” Sam broke the silence.

Crowley smiled. “They were to keep us out of the Cage. No matter what.”

Castiel nodded. “So, naturally, that's where we're going to have to go then.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Crowley, who nodded.

“Actually, no. We're going to do the unexpected this time. Maybe trip up our opposition. Stop the chain-reaction.”

Sam looked confused. “Which is what, exactly?”

“We're going to triple the guard on the Cage, find Raguel, and plan our next move from there. We just make sure that when we go to the Cage, it's on  _our_ terms, got it?”

Sam shrugged. “Alright, where to?”

Crowley walked over to the table and clicked the remote, switching on the Big Board. A cursor was blinking over a map of the US.

Dean groaned. “Seriously?”

Sam smiled. “Hey, at least it's not Detroit.”

Dean's groan deepened. “Man, couldn't Raguel have picked a better place to flap around?”

“Well, if there's vengeance to dish out, it's a perfect place for it. Lot's of misfortune there....” Sam replied glibly.

Dean sighed deeply, looking up at the Big Board again.

“Cleveland. Great.”

 


	10. It Ain't Over....

# It Ain't Over....

“Man, what'dja go ahead and shoot 'em for?” Darius 'Scoops' Cooper whined in protest at his partner Samuel Tines. They were both covered in sweat and panting heavily, having reached the relatively safe confines of an abandoned warehouse in Cleveland's Warehouse District near Euclid. Most of the renovated buildings there had been fixed up as tourist attractions and modernized for new storage, but there had been a few that had fallen through the cracks, much like the one Scoops and Samuel moved through, deeper into the musty shadows, watching the windows for signs of blue lights.

The quick snatch and grab had gone very south on them. They looked to grab the ladies purse while Samuel was distracting the attractive couple asking for directions. But the guy was too alert...and armed, and tried to draw on Samuel.

Samuel was faster, and, in a panic, had emptied his clip into him and his date.

It was relatively early for a Cleveland night, just past eleven, and there had been witnesses. Samuel and Scoops had run for all they were worth to their meeting point/hideout to figure out their next steps.

“Man, we got to  _go_ ,” Samuel panted. “Scoops, Scoops, man, wake up!” he shouted, noticing his partner staring off into space. Scoops blinked slowly and focused back on Samuel.

“”Man, we're in some deep shi...” Scoops began to mutter.

“Dontcha' think I know that!?” Samuel barked back. “Look, Scoops, your uncle still got that place out in Westlake? That ol' rich, respectable place?”

Scoops nodded, then frowned and shook his head. “Man, I don't  _know...._ ”

“Yeah, well I do! 5-0's coming down like Revelations on our asses if we don't get out of here now, Scoops. And I ain't doin' no time for murder one, Scoops. No way in hell....”

They both froze as a hollow, echoing laughter from somewhere deep in the shadows of the warehouse began. Samuel, hand shaking, eyes wide, drew his gun and started looking around.

“Who's there? Man, if you some crackhead trippin', you best find another place to go....get steppin!” he yelled out, holding the gun in front of him warningly.

“Revelations....” the voice spoke gently, almost in a whisper. “So appropriate, Samuel Lawrence Tines.”

Samuel felt his blood run cold, the new sweat breaking out on his forehead nothing to do with the recent sprinting.

“How....how you know my name, man?”

“When you have landed on my list, Samuel Lawrence Tines, I know  _everything_ about you.....” came the icy reply.

“Samuel, what the  _fu_ ....?” Scoops hissed.

He never got to finish.

In less than an eyeblink, the shadows seemed to reach out and grab Scoops around the throat. Wordlessly, soundlessly, he disappeared right in front of Samuel's eyes. There was a sharp cracking sound, and then the noise of something heavy hitting the floor. He then saw a limp hand fall out into the small pool of light he was standing in - Scoops dirty, scarred and now lifeless hand instantly recognizable.

Samuel, wide-eyed, stared into the shadows, gun pointed into them.

“Who is that.....? I'm gonna light you up....” he managed in a tight, frightened voice.

A pair of glowing blue eyes blinked at him from the shadows.

Scoops fired directly at them, emptying his clip for the second time that evening.

He squinted through the gun smoke, ears ringing.

“I got you, you mother....I got your ass....” he whispered to himself.

The eyes blinked at him again, and took a step forward.

With a shriek of terror, Samuel turned and ran, nearly tripping on his own feet. He stumbled towards the open warehouse floor, dodging the bulky shadows of empty crates that loomed suddenly in his path in the darkness, feeling cobwebs clinging to his sweating face, his breath coming in ragged, frantic draws.

He hit a wall, and was flung sprawling backwards.

Disoriented, he looked up. _There shouldn't be damned wall here_.....his mind raced in confusion.

The blue eyes stared back at him from where he had run into their owner.

He scrambled to all fours and pivoted, ready to stand up and sprint in the other direction.

There was another pair of eyes directly in front of him. And another, a fourth, a fifth, his mind numbly counted as he spun slowly in place, surrounded.

“He....he drew down on _me_....I was _protectin'_ myself....” he whined feebly in protest. “Who are you anyway? Ya'll don't know shit about me....”

“We know enough,” several voices said as one. “We know enough that your actions have placed you on our list, Samuel. And we have now come.”

Samuel felt tears in his eyes as the circle closed around him.

“What list? What are you?” he whispered.

“We are Vengeance.” the voice said, filling his ears.

 

***

 

A stray dog, rooting in the garbage dumpster near the warehouse, looked up in curiosity, tilting his head and perking his ears up at the muffled cries that came from inside. When there was nothing else, he turned back to his search, certain there was a piece of uneaten pizza somewhere within reach.

He never saw the seven figures bathed in blue light rise out of the open window of the warehouses roof and streak away into the night sky.

 

***

 

The officer lifted up the crime scene tape, letting the four FBI agents into the perimeter.

“You know, we'd all appreciate it down here if you let us handle this, well, you know – locally, if you catch my drift,” the officer griped. The taller one of the four turned and smiled at him tightly.

“Sorry, but this is part of a Federal Investigation. Any particular reason this one is personal?” he asked.

The officer scratched at the back of his neck. “We recovered a gun near one of the victim's bodies. Matches the ballistics of one used in a murder/robbery that went down late last night.” He paused and looked around. “It was one of ours who got killed in that robbery. Him and his wife. Off- duty.”

“The guy's dead, officer. What more can you guys do to him?”

“We figure the rest of his gang turned on him splitting up the loot. Messed him up pretty good. We want to find them.”

The tall agent nodded and looked at his partners and raised his eyebrows in question. The dark-haired agent with greenish eyes shrugged and looked at the other two, a red-headed nerdy looking type and a balding, sour-looking short guy in a black trenchcoat. Probably their supervisor, the officer thought.

“Look, I get it,” the short one answered. “We just need to gather a bit of preliminary information, and we'll leave you to it.”

The officer frowned. “The....the FBI hires British guys?” he asked, noting the thick accent.

The agent walked away without a word, just a sarcastic smile. The taller agent clapped the officer on the shoulder.

“It's OK, he's a legal immigrant. And he's Scottish, not British. Lucky for you he's in a good mood....”

With that, they all moved off into the warehouse, leaving the officer scratching his head.

 

***

 

“Oh yeah, that's an Angel allright,” Dean said to them under his breath, leaning over the corpse with the sheet pulled back in one hand. The man under it had his eyes burned completely out, his face frozen in a scream of pain and horror.

Dean let the sheet fall back looking around at 'Team Raguel'; Charlie, Sam and Crowley. 'Team Cage'; Castiel, Garth, Leon, David and Kinsey had been sent back to Hell to reinforce the security there, and to warn them in case of attack. Chuck had been left back at Crowley's office in Atlanta in case Jesse or Gabriel woke up, but it didn't seem likely. They had shown no signs of breaking out of their respective comas.

“So, this is probably our guy, right?” he asked, moving away from the body and the forensics team.

“It fits,” Crowley grunted in response. “Robbery goes wrong, perpetrators run away, almost get away with it....rain of vengeance comes down on them.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “So, we collect some readings, then use that to nail down the energy pattern, locate Raguel and make sure he's safe, right?”

Crowley nodded. “And let's make sure that's  _all_ we do here, boys. No offense, but I don't want us anywhere near this Angel....bad things happen to them when we get too close....”

“Um....guys....?” Charlie said. They looked up at her. She was walking around the warehouse and staring at the floor.

Sam closed his eyes slowly. Dean smiled grimly.

“It's never that easy, is it?” he murmured. “Yeah, Charlie?”

“Raguel....he um, works alone, right?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked, walking over to her and following her gaze. She was circling the floor and studying the footprints in the dirty, dusty floor.

“What I mean is, I saw the victim here was wearing sneakers, so those are his tracks. And his partner's are these here,” she explained, pointing out the patterns of footsteps. “So, the rest of these have to be Raguel, right? I mean, they were all made recently, and besides rat-tracks, there are no other footprints in here....”

“Should be,” Sam answered, walking over to Charlie as well and frowning at the tracks.

“Well, then, Raguel had help,” Charlie explained. “Look here, there are at  _least_ five other distinct types of footprints here....”

Crowley rubbed at his chin. “No, actually, that does not fit in with his MO, at all. He's strictly a loner.” He sighed. “Allright, get your readings, Moose, then do your Man of Letters thing and locate our friend. Maybe we can get some answers then. I'm going to phone the other team and inform them of our progress.” He walked away taking out his phone while Sam shook his head slowly and pulled out the device he had rescued from the Bunker's vault's. It resembled a strange cross between an I-Pad and an abacus. He flipped it open and began scribbling in his notebook the symbols in Enochian that began to show on the devices crystals.

When he finished, he looked up and nodded at the rest of them.

“Got it. Or....at least I think I do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean asked.

“Well, it's like Charlie said, there appear to be multiple signals.” he replied, frowning down at his notes. “But they're all like....the same.”

Crowley took the notebook from him and read it over before handing it back “What do you mean by that? I read Enochian, and these are all different symbols....”

“Yeah, they are, but they're like acronyms of a greater whole, Crowley....put them all together, and then you get a symbol for an Arch-Angel I guess, but apart....” he shook his head. “They're nothing. Segments.”

“Well, that actually is damned peculiar...” Crowley agreed, raising his eyebrows. He shook his head. “Well, we'll know more once we locate him, or them....whatever. Let's get cracking.”

 

***

 

Castiel looked around at the Demon guards again and back up at the red sky outside of the Cage. He shivered and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Was that them?” Garth asked, sidling up silently next to him.

Castiel nodded. “They working on locating Raguel.” He sighed. “The sooner the better. We need to get in there.” He frowned and walked over to where Leon, Kinsey and David were, the latter sitting cross-legged on the ground facign the entrance to the Cage, his eyes closed and brow furrowed.

“What's he doing?” Castiel asked, slightly alarmed.

“Well, he figured if he could read the thoughts or make contact with the Big Bad inside without  _actually_ having to go in there, it'd save everyone a lot of time....” Leon shrugged dismissively.

Castiel leaned back, considering, then nodded. “That might actually work....anything yet?”

Leon blew out a breath. “Nada. My man's been at it for awhile. Weird. My man David here makes Professor X look like an Atlantic City Tarot Card reader....usually can read anything, Angels included....”

Castiel looked up at the massive entrance to the Cage.

“Well, the Cage is probably shielded too well,” he said, placing a hand on David's shoulder. “But it was a good....”

His eyes widened in shock, his hand tightening on David's shoulder.

“What...Castiel....what is it?” Leon asked, alarmed.

David's eyes squeezed further shut, Castiel looked up in alarm at the Cage's entrance.

“I'm....in contact....with David's thoughts....” Castiel grunted. “I can....see....”

“David? David can you hear me?” Kinsey shook David's other shoulder, concern on her face. David gave no reply, his eyes tightly closed. Kinsey looked up pleadingly at Garth and Leon. “This has never happened before....”

“Cass? Castiel!?” Garth yelled, alarmed. The Angel's eyes had begun to shine bright white, his teeth clenched in what looked like pain. Garth grabbed the Angel's arm, ripping it away from David's shoulder.

David and Castiel simultaneously let out a cry of pure fury and pain, smoke emanating out of the Angel's eyes, then then both fell over in a heap on the ground.

 

***

 

Sam quickly triangulated the Angelic energy, and the four of them drove over in Charlie's van to a side road near Lake Eerie. There were several 'No Trespassing' signs and gates up blocking the road. Sam and Dean got out and began clearing them out.

“We're....we're not going in there, right? Just locating Raguel....or _Raguels_....?” Charlie asked Crowley.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “You think for one second that yours truly would want to get that close to the Archangel of Vengeance?”

Charlie smiled. “Yeah, right, good point, “ she said, relaxing.

Sam and Dean finished up and climbed back into the van.

“We saw a cabin up the road,” Sam said, sitting down. “Stop a hundred yards or so from it, then me and Dean can go scope it out....report back what we see.”

Charlie nodded and they crept forward slowly. The sun was slowly blotted out by the thick tree canopy and the smell of swamp and rot filled the van as the tires crunched over the gravel and mud of the side road. Eventually, Charlie spotted the cabin and pulled to a stop off of the road. Sam and Dean nodded to them silently and got out.

 

***

 

Chuck leaned back and turned the channel on the TV. There was only so much daytime talk show that he could take.

He flipped channels until he landed on Nickelodeon, settling back to watch a re-run of Ren And Stimpy's 'Space Madness'.

There was a groan from the other room.

Chuck sat up, alert, listening, and heard another groan, followed by the rustling of sheets. He sprang out of the chair and into the small office where Jesse was layed out on one of the large leather couches, Gabriel on the other. It was the former that had sat up, his hand held to his head.

“Jesse! Are you OK?” Chuck asked rushing over. “Can I get you anything? Water? A Coke?”

Jesse shook his head slowly, red eyes focusing on Chuck.

“M'allright, mate,” he droned , his Australian accent suddenly very thick. He squinted at him. “Do....do I know you?”

 

***

 

Dean crept around the side of the cabin, located a broken out window, and risked a glance inside. He nodded back to Sam when he confirmed it was all clear, then pulled the window up, climbing carefully through. Sam came in a few seconds behind him. They looked around the moldy and dilapidated room, noting the ratty blankets, strewn wood, and plates filled with rainwater from the leaky roof.

“Sammy, you  _sure_ this is the right place?” Dean whispered.

Sam nodded, looking more carefully at the floor. He reached down and pulled at a tattered rug, moving it aside. There was a latched door there leading to a cellar. The latch itself looked fairly new.

Dean nodded. “We should go. Even money this is where Raguel is held up. We just need to make sure we can keep an eye on him, and we're good, right?”

“Not exactly, boys” came Crowley's voice from behind them.

Sam and Dean spun as one, their guns out. Crowley and Charlie stood in the entryway, their hands over their heads. Crowley gave a reluctant shrug of his shoulders, and Charlie made a very sheepish face as they both stepped in.

Behind them stood seven teenagers with glowing blue eyes.

“What the hell....?” Dean rasped.

“Well, it appears that we have found 'Raguel',” Crowley answered, indicating the teenagers with a sweep of his hand. “Or rather, what's left of him....”

“'What's left....'?” Sam repeated in question. “Crowley what's going on here? Where's Raguel?”

“Out master is dead. Slain by the Angel who is not an Angel. The Demon who is not a Demon,” the teens spoke as one.

“Ok, that is frikking  _creepy_ , “ Dean muttered. “Someone want to start making sense here?”

“It simply means that Raguel is already dead, boys,” Crowley answered, exasperated. “Has been for awhile. We're too late. Far too late.” He looked down at the trapdoor and nodded at it. “If what the Glee-Club here just explained to me is true, what's down there will confirm it.”

 

***

 

“David!?” Kinsey cried, shaking David by the shoulders. David groaned, his eyes fluttering open. Garth was squatting over Castiel, growling at the occasional smirking Demon who came too close, but the Angel had not stirred. He was still alive, but not responsive.

“David? David, what happened?” Kinsey asked, holding his head up with both hands.

David opened his eyes slowly. They were horribly bloodshot.

“Saw....saw inside there....” David said, nodding towards the Cage.

“Oh....oh shit, you saw...the Devil?” Leon gasped. “Man, I knew that something bad was gonna happen....”

David shook his head weakly. “No....that's not it....Lucifer....he's....he's....”

“Gone,” came Castiel's gravelly voice from over their shoulder. They all spun their heads towards him. The Angel had sat up, and was rubbing his forehead in pain.

“Gone? Like escaped?” Leon asked.

“No. More like gone as in dead, I'm afraid,” Castiel answered. He stood up on shaky legs, Garth helping him. “We have to get back to Atlanta. If Lucifer is dead, then Raguel and Gabriel are the last two Archangels left....”

 

***

 

The burned out imprint of the Archangel Raguel's wings were visible against the hundreds of Enochian and Demonic symbols written in blood on the dark, concrete walls of the basement. Crowley shook his head and pulled out his phone, dialing frantically.

“What am I looking at here, Sam?” Dean asked. Sam was studying the symbols.

“Dean...I don't know...” Sam whispered in reply.

“What? I thought you had like decades of Men of Letters shoved into that head of yours....haven't you seen every spell there is?”

“Not this one....” Sam answered, shaking his head. “As far as I can make out, it was a kind of reverse exorcism....”He straightened up and regarded the seven teens. “What happened here?”

“The Angel and the Demon,” The teens began to speak before Crowley held up a hand.

“Please, can just _one_ of you answer please? This hive-mind thing is disturbing.” He pointed at the one closest to him. “You. Go ahead.”

The teen nodded. “They captured the Archangel known as Raguel, and seven mortal teenagers....”; Castiel, Garth, Leon, David and Kinsey

“You, right?” Charlie asked. The teen nodded in affirmation, then continued.

“They brought them here and destroyed him, but in doing so, sought to transfer his essence into separate vessels.”

Sam looked back at the symbols, examined them some more, then nodded.

“It was a test run....” he muttered.

Dean nodded. “They wanted to know how to make Archangels of their own. Used Raguel here as a guinea pig....”

“Two birds with one stone....” Sam finished. “Eliminate one Archangel, figured out how to create the Heralds.”

“Now,  _we_ are Vengeance,” the teens spoke together again.

“Well, not exactly, the power is diminished, distributed like this. That's probably why they let them live.”

“Why's that?” Charlie asked.

“No threat to their plans,” Sam answered, sighing. “Well, that just leaves Gabriel and Lucifer then.”

“Not exactly,” Crowley murmured , putting his phone back in his pocket. “I just got off the phone with Castiel. We have a problem, boys....”

 

***

 

 

Gabriel's eyes flew open.

_The last....I am the last_ .....his mind filled with the knowledge. He was the very last guardian of the Door. The last version of Gabriel. That last hope for the entire universe....

He blinked in the dim light, looking around. He saw two figures on a couch near him. He was in.... _an office_ ?

“Gabriel?” came a voice from one of the figures seated near him. He  _knew_ that voice....but...it couldn't be....it absolutely  _couldn't_ be....

“Father?”

 


End file.
